Wild Roses Victoria Academy
by ginny29
Summary: Who is the baby on the dock? Beginning in the Autumn of AC 190, Instructor Treize sees a rebellious Cadet Zechs through his final year of schooling at the Specials Academy. Adult Rated for bad language and multiple pairings, slash and het. 13xOFC's, 6xOMC
1. Chapter 1

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter One**

_Mid-June AC 192: Khushrenada Ancestral Estate - Moscow _

"Rough night?"

Seventeen-year-old Zechs Marquise looked up from where he was resting his head in hands, winced at the bright sunlight flooding the room, and grimaced. "Somewhat," he admitted, scowling as he caught sight of Treize's clear eyes and amused smirk. "How are you so chipper this morning?" he asked in disgust.

A forked brow lifted slowly. "Chipper?" Treize retaliated. "I'm no more or less 'chipper' than I am any morning. The joys of a decent night's sleep, my friend, and the anticipation of a good breakfast – you should try it occasionally."

Zechs swallowed hard, feeling his stomach heave at the very thought of eating. "Don't mention food unless you want me throwing up," he pleaded, cringing as he recalled the thoroughly unpleasant half hour he'd spent in the bathroom after waking that morning. "Again."

"Oh, dear," Treize sighed as he sank gracefully into the chair on the other side of the small breakfast table. "Do I want to ask what you were doing last night?"

"Something green," Zechs responded, reaching out and stealing Treize's steaming coffee from under his hand. "And don't ask me how I know that," he added with a rueful smile.

The second eyebrow joined the first. "Delightful." Treize glanced at his appropriated coffee. "Are you planning to give that back?" he asked.

"No," Zechs admitted.

"Miserable brat." As gracefully as he had sat down, Treize got to his feet again, crossed the morning room to the table under the window and poured a fresh cup of coffee. Coming back to the table he switched the new cup for the one Zechs had purloined. "There you go, pure caffeine. None of the nasty cream and sugar I put in mine."

The younger man picked up the cup and inhaled gratefully. "Thank you!"

Treize snorted, shook his head and went to fetch himself food from the table, returning with two plates, one only half full.

Zechs didn't seem to appreciate the slices of dry toast the older man set in front of him as much as he had the coffee. "Treize…"

"You need to eat something, Zechs. You know that. You'll feel better for it," he encouraged.

"I doubt it," Zechs protested, but he picked up the first slice and began to nibble at it slowly. Treize nodded his approval and set to work on his own meal – one considerably more substantial than the blonde's. He'd just cracked the top off his soft-boiled egg when the younger man shoved back from the table and fled the room.

Treize set his knife and fork down with a sigh and followed him at a more sedate pace, wondering what had been the trigger for Zechs's behaviour this time.

_Late September AC 190: Lake Victoria Military Academy_

Instructor Treize Khushrenada leaned his slender body back against the cold brickwork of the cadet dormitory building, drawing his heavy uniform cloak tighter around himself in an attempt to ward off the chill of the early morning. A glance at the pocket watch he drew from his jacket told him it had gone two am, and he shook his head at the stupidity of the cadets he was waiting for. Even if they hadn't been noticed as missing this evening – which, of course, they had – somebody would certainly have noticed something was amiss tomorrow, when they were all struggling to get through the day on less than three hours of sleep whilst suffering the after-effects of too much strong alcohol.

Still, he knew why they had taken the risk. A cadet's life was brutally hard, the chances for fun and frolics with classmates and friends few and far between – too few and far between in his opinion. In combination with accelerated maturity demanded of Specials trainees and the natural rise of a teenager's hormones, the lure of the dance clubs and bars in the nearby city was far too strong, and most cadets slipped off base at least once in their time at the Academy. It was one rule Treize himself hadn't been an exception to.

Most cadets, though, had the sense to be back well before now, guaranteeing an acceptable amount of sleep before the morning reveille at 5.30 am. The trainees didn't know it, of course, but amongst the staff of the Academy it was agreed that no official notice would be taken of such excursions – especially if the cadets participating in them were in their final year – provided that those involved were back on base by midnight and that their performance numbers didn't slip.

Perhaps because he wasn't so very much older than they were, Treize was generally a little more lenient with his wards than the other instructors were with theirs, but this group had passed even that tolerance long since and, when they did finally turn in, were going to be in real hot water. Some few cadets always tried to take advantage of his generosity, but most learned quickly that he wasn't to be crossed. He had a temper and a scything tongue, and, though he had never once been forced to resort to the regulation-permitted forms of corporal punishment to discipline his charges, he was known for reducing errant trainees to helpless tears when irked.

He was more than irked now. He was, in fact, coming very close to being thoroughly furious. He was cold and tired, bored of standing out here in the dark and utterly dreading the ribbing he was going to take about this from his fellow staff members. More, he was annoyed because of the cadets involved in this stunt – half a dozen of his best and brightest, including Lucrezia Noin, the single most talented cadet he'd ever seen, and Zechs, childhood companion turned close friend and personal protégé. He hadn't thought either of them was this foolish.

Hushed whispers, clumsy footsteps and hurriedly stifled giggles warned him of the miscreants' imminent return and, with his usual flair for the dramatic, he waited until they were almost on top of him before he moved from the concealing shadows and stepped out onto the floodlit path directly in front of them.

They came to a stunned, staggering halt, eyes wide with sudden fear. Treize's sensitive hearing caught a whispered, but truly heartfelt 'Oh, shit!' from someone but he didn't bother to identify whom as he raked his gaze over the group.

"Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen," he greeted mildly. There was a ragged chorus of response, and he allowed himself to smile slowly. "I find myself facing a dilemma; perhaps you could help me to solve it?" he asked as he took a step closer to the loosely-packed group and raised one hand to stroke the pad of his thumb over his lower lip. "A group of cadets has been found out of bed well after Lights Out, and there are two possible explanations – either this diligent, dedicated group has chosen to rise almost three and a half hours before they need to in order to work on their physical fitness before morning roll call, in which case I shall commend them for their dedication, and retire to the comfort of my bed. Or, they have been caught returning from an unsanctioned visit to the City and are in breach of at least half a dozen regulations, in which case I shall take great pleasure in raining every punishment I can think of upon their idiotic heads."

There was a ringing silence, broken only by uneasy shuffling as he allowed their alcohol-soaked brains to process what he had said. "Perhaps one of you could help me to decide which conclusion I should come to?" he prompted after almost a minute had passed.

As he spoke, he allowed his eyes to wander slowly over each cadet in turn, knowing full well what effect it would have. Most reacted as he had expected, cringing away as they sought protection in the shadows of their fellows. As much as they knew they were in trouble, none of them wanted to draw his attention personally – and well they shouldn't.

As he watched them fidget under his gaze and flick questioning glances at one another, he found that amusement was beginning to overtake his anger. They were a rumpled, rag-tag bunch; with their clothing creased and stained, the girls' make-up rubbed half off and everyone's hair sweat-dampened and in need of a brush they managed to look much younger than they actually were and a far cry from their usual spit-and-polish presentation.

"Well?" Treize demanded, idly making bets with himself over which of his suggested options they would take. If they were smart they'd take his offered three hours of exercise, tough as it would be on them – the known fate was always, tactically, the sounder option. He had to admit, though, that he was hoping they didn't. In the time they'd been deliberating, he'd already thought up several rather creative punishments for them.

"Is it possible there could be a third explanation, sir?"

Or, he realised, one of them could have the steel – and the stupidity – to challenge him. He turned slowly to look at the cadet who had spoken and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Mr Marquise. Is it?"

Zechs was standing with his arm around Noin's slender waist, holding his classmate against his side as she huddled against the chilly night air in what appeared to be the blonde's jacket. As Treize focused his attention on the younger man, Zechs dropped his arm, straightened to parade-ground posture and lifted his chin, almost pulling off the formal stance despite the casual grey t-shirt and black jeans he had worn to go out in. "Yes, sir," he murmured.

"Indeed." Treize locked his gaze on the blonde's face for a moment, then turned to glance at the other cadets. "You may go. I will expect to see each of you in my office tomorrow morning, in whatever order you choose, beginning at seven am. I shan't need more than ten minutes with any one of you."

He watched as they gave him a sloppy salute and scurried off. "Your third possibility, Mr Marquise, if you please?" Treize asked when he and Zechs were standing alone.

The younger man didn't move, though Treize could see his skin reacting to the cold. "Not precisely a separate explanation, sir," he began. "I merely wished to suggest that there might be further, extenuating circumstances behind the cadets' behaviour."

"I see." Treize nodded coolly, and then allowed his anger to make his voice a lash. "Do you presume our prior relationship will save you, Zechs, or are you simply so drunk that you don't realise how much trouble you're in?"

The boy tensed subtly. "Neither, sir."

"Then, would you care to tell me why you chose to argue with me? You had realised, I hope, that the smart move would have been to agree to the exercise?"

Zechs shook his head. "No, sir, it wouldn't have been. Three hours of PT would have left every one of us ill, sir." He stopped, hesitating before adding, "And I chose to disagree with you because it was my job, sir."

"Your job?" Treize demanded. "I don't recall it being your job to challenge your commanding officer!"

The younger man's eyes widened. "I didn't mean that, sir!" he protested. "I only meant that, as cadet-corporal, I'm the senior officer in the group and that therefore it's my job to take responsibility for the actions of the others."

Treize snorted. "Very noble, Zechs, if utter rubbish. The last time I checked, Noin was also cadet-corporal. You're hardly _her_ senior officer."

"No, sir, I know I'm not, but it's her birthday, and…" he trailed off, abruptly slipping from stoic officer to uncertain teenager.

Treize scowled at the boy as the light dawned. "Her birthday. Your extenuating circumstances, I presume?"

"Yes, sir, part of them."

"Part of them?" Treize snapped, then threw up his hands as Zechs shivered visibly in the rising wind. "Oh, for Christ's sake! Come with me, Zechs. If I have to argue with you, I'm damn well going to do it in comfort!"

"Yes, sir," Zechs replied, gratitude colouring the automatic phrase.

Moving swiftly, Treize crossed the open, lawned space dividing the cadets' quarters from the staff officers' accommodation, keyed his security code into the panel beside the glass doors and gestured Zechs through them. The closing doors cut off the cold night air and left the two of them standing in the heated, well-lit lobby of the building.

Treize made his way across the foyer to the staircase, paused as he realised Zechs wasn't with him, and turned back to see the younger man looking around curiously. "A little more comfortable than cadet quarters, isn't it?" Treize asked, remembering the dull paint and utilitarian furniture of the barracks.

"A little, sir, yes."

"It'll give you something to aim for then," Treize commented. "This way." He gestured up the wide, carpeted stairs.

To his surprise, Zechs giggled as he followed him up to the second floor, leaving Treize to notice how wobbly a path the younger man was walking and remember that Zechs was, most likely, utterly sozzled.

Sighing to himself, Treize caught Zechs's arm in his hand and kept him from bouncing into the walls as they made their way down the corridor. At the far end, the instructor unlocked the door to his quarters, steered the cadet through it and left him standing in the middle of the room as he switched on the light.

He dropped onto the softness of the couch in the centre of his lounge, and looked up at the boy. "That's better," he admitted. "Now – you were going to explain why I should forgive your breach of Academy regulations tonight?"

As he had outside, Zechs drew himself to attention before speaking. "Yes, sir," he began. "As I said, it's Noin's birthday…"

Treize held up a hand. "Do you think that excuses you?" he asked.

"No, of course not, sir. That's only the reason we went tonight specifically."

"Oh? Then explain why you thought it necessary to disobey orders at all, please."

Zechs shuffled uncomfortably. "I was trying to cheer her up, sir. She's been miserable since the term started."

"Has she? I haven't heard anything from any of her teachers."

"No, but… with what happened over the summer…"

Treize lifted an eyebrow. "What did happen over the summer?"

"Don't you know?!"

The accusing tone to the boy's voice and the sudden rise in volume took the older man by surprise. He sat back and fought to keep it from showing on his face, as he replied, "Clearly not. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

"Noin's father was killed in action over the summer break, sir," Zechs hissed, his voice still holding the reproachful lilt. "I would have thought you'd know something like that," he challenged.

Treize smiled coldly as understanding dawned. "I did," he confirmed. "I simply didn't think you'd expect me to consider it a valid reason for your behaviour."

His fine-boned face showing an equal mix of outrage and disbelief, Zechs snatched off his shielding dark glasses and glared at his commander with eyes as piercing as lasers. "How can you not consider that a valid reason?!" he spat.

"Because it isn't one," Treize replied, and his own tone was icy. "Noin's father was a soldier, and soldiers die. Noin should know that. She's a final year Specials cadet – she's expected to be able to deal with such things on her own."

The older man allowed that particular bit of cruelty to sink in for a few seconds before he spoke again. "If she _was_ having problems," he continued as the defiance drained from his pupil's posture, "she should have gone to her personal mentor for help. That would have allowed us to deal with things in the most appropriate fashion – which certainly wouldn't have involved allowing a group of cadets to engage in unsupervised roaming of the city late at night and illegal underage drinking."

Zechs shrugged helplessly. "It was all I could think of," he confessed softly.

Treize nodded. "Yes, I imagine it was. That's precisely why you shouldn't have taken matters into your own hands. Noin's mentor would have listened sympathetically as she explained the problem, and then, most likely, would have referred her to the Academy counsellor's for a time."

The blond snorted abruptly. "Noin's mentor is Major Valadin. I don't think Vlad the Impaler would have been very sympathetic!"

Treize quelled him with a look. "Yes, Mr Marquise, she would have been. Major Valadin, like all the Academy instructors, is expected and trusted to be as understanding of such things as is possible. She wouldn't have her position if she wasn't thought capable of that. None of us, myself included, would. In the future, cadet, please allow us to do our job."

Zechs slumped. "Yes, sir."

Treize leaned forward again, pinning his pupil in place with his gaze. "Now, Mr Marquise, whilst I admire your concern for a fellow cadet, and your willingness to accept responsibility for your actions, I find I cannot justify your behaviour. Therefore, I have to assign you some sort of punishment. Would you care to suggest something suitable?"

"I don't know, sir."

There was sudden wretchedness in the blonde's slender form and Treize sighed inwardly, not finding it in himself to be as harsh as he knew he should be. "For the next two weeks," he decided as he spoke, "I think I shall require you to attend to such duties as I may find suitable for you, rather than spending your free hour with your friends. Does that seem fair?"

"Yes, sir."

Treize nodded. "One last thing then, before I allow you to go to your bed. I have never, in my time as an Instructor, raised my hand to a cadet, and I never intended to. I find the practice of caning officer trainees demeaning and detrimental to their education. That said, if you ever – and I do mean _ever_ – challenge my authority again as you did tonight, I will put you over my desk and personally cane you within an inch of your life. Are we clear on that?"

Zechs, once again shaking visibly despite the warmth of the room, stood with his head bowed and didn't reply. Concerned, Treize got to his feet. "Zechs?"

"… Yes, sir…"

The tiny catch at the end of the standard acknowledgement made something inside the older man freeze. He'd had Zechs in his office half a dozen times over the two years he'd been a cadet – had raked him over the coals on several occasions for daring to operate against regulations – and, though more than one of those tongue-lashings had escalated into near-screaming rows, forcing Treize to go at the boy far harder than he had tonight, and though the instructor was infamous for making cadets cry, he'd never, to date, managed to get such a response from his friend. He hoped he hadn't now.

"Zechs, look at me, please," he asked quietly.

The blonde's chin lifted, the gesture dignified despite the misery in his eyes. "Could you tell me where the bathroom is, please? I… I think I'm going to be sick."

Treize blinked. "Are you really?" he quizzed. "Or are you trying to keep me from seeing that I've upset you?"

"No, sir, I…" Zechs stopped, turning pale. "Treize, please!" he begged.

The older man nodded towards a door on the far side of the lounge. "Over there."

The boy flew across the space, flung open the door as soon as he reached it, and slammed it behind him hard enough to make Treize wince at the noise. The last thing he needed was to wake the officers in the neighbouring rooms with the commotion.

Determining from the rather unpleasant sounds coming from his bathroom that Zechs was going to be occupied for at least the next few minutes, Treize shucked off his cloak and jacket, slung them over the back of one of his arm-chairs and kicked off his boots. Socked feet silent on the thick carpet, he left his rooms, made his way along the corridor to the broom-cupboard where the cleaner kept her equipment and retrieved one of the sturdy-looking buckets he had seen her with, hoping she wouldn't notice it missing before he had a chance to return it.

Returning to his quarters, he set the bucket down by the sofa, and padded first into his bedroom, where he cast a wistful glance at the bed he knew he wasn't going to get to use tonight, collected one of his thicker spare blankets from their shelf in the top of his wardrobe, and then made his way into his little kitchen, pausing only to throw the blanket in the general direction of the couch.

Agile fingers set his coffee machine to brew without thought on Treize's part, and he began to open his cupboards in sequence, wondering if he actually had anything in any of them that Zechs could drink in his current state. The fridge yielded bottled water – something he knew he hadn't put there – and he set it on the side as the first of the coffee began to drip into the pot.

He was settled comfortably into the other armchair, sipping his second cup of the fragrant, potent liquid and trying to stay awake when his bathroom door opened again. "Done for now, are you?" he asked, smiling.

Zechs nodded. "Done completely, I hope…"

"I doubt it. Come and sit down."

Treize watched as the cadet crossed the room slowly, perched himself on the end of the sofa and wrapped his arms around himself. Slender body shivering violently, his skin pallid, Zechs looked altogether younger, smaller and more wretched than Treize could remember him being for quite some time. Certainly, he seemed far removed from the confident, rapidly maturing officer the older man had been training for the past two years.

"I'm sorry I'm causing you all this trouble," Zechs murmured. "I didn't intend to…"

"I know that."

"I know I shouldn't have broken the regulations. It's only that Noin's been so upset since we came back, and when one of the others suggested going out for her birthday she seemed so happy with the idea that I couldn't say no."

Treize set his cup down on the low table. "I know, Zechs."

The boy nodded silently, staring at the floor.

Treize got to his feet abruptly, something akin to paternal instinct prompting him to move around the table and sit down next to his friend. He pressed the bottle of water into trembling hands. "Sip it, it'll make you feel better," he ordered.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. If you know you shouldn't have, why did you go with the others tonight? You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. Noin wouldn't have been happy if I hadn't. She might even have refused to go altogether," Zechs explained. He twisted the top of the bottle off and almost spilt the water trying to drink it. Treize wrapped one hand over the boy's, steadying the bottle and used the other to pull the blanket from the back of the sofa and drape it around his friend.

"May I ask you something personal?" Treize began when Zechs had put the bottle back on the table. The boy looked up, startled, and nodded. "Are you in love with her?"

"No!" Zechs's eyes widened. "No, I'm not. Why do you ask?"

"You seem to be going to an awful lot of trouble to make her happy, that's all. It would be easier to understand why you would if you had feelings for her, or if you were trying to impress her."

"Oh." Zechs shook his head determinedly. "She's my friend, nothing else. She's… I wouldn't… I'm not…." He broke off, seemed to decide against whatever he had been about to say and collected himself. "She's just a friend," he repeated. "My best friend, I think… after you, I mean."

Treize smiled. "Sweet of you to say so."

Zechs shrugged. "It's the truth." He shivered.

"Still cold?" Treize asked. "Take your shoes off and come here." He waited for the boy to pull off his boots, then settled his arm lightly around Zechs's shoulders and drew him back into the soft cushions of the couch.

To his surprise, the boy turned into his hold, all but climbing into his teacher's lap as he curled his feet up under the blanket and leaned into the older man, letting his silky head rest on his chest. Treize stared down at him for a moment – they hadn't sat together like this for years, not since Zechs was nine or ten – then he shrugged, tightened his grip and began running his fingers through fine white hair.

There was a part of the older man that knew this was inappropriate for an instructor with his cadet. Had that been all Zechs was Treize would have made him move, but, as the boy could be considered his adopted younger brother, there was nothing wrong with holding him like this – and for that Treize was grateful. There was something about it that soothed the part of him that missed his baby daughter so fiercely.

"I really am sorry I've been so much trouble…" Zechs whispered softly.

Treize smiled. "Oh, hush. You're half drunk and half asleep. Close your eyes and apologise to me tomorrow, will you?"

"Alright…"

Zechs's breathing slowed and deepened as he relaxed into sleep. Treize watched him for a moment more, then allowed his own eyes to close as he drifted into a light doze


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Late September AC 190: Lake Victoria Military Academy_

A distinctive fragrance caught at Treize's senses as he was occupied reading in the staff lounge later that evening, drawing his attention from the book he was holding. Cool cloth brushed against his skin as willowy arms twined around his shoulders from behind, and he smiled to himself as he dropped his head back against the top of his chair, catching smooth-skinned hands under one of his own against his chest. "Hello, Liliya," he murmured.

Major Valadin returned his smile. "Hello, darling," she purred, her voice warm and low. "You look terrible."

"I don't doubt it. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh?" The warm fingers playing with the fastenings of his coat were withdrawn and a moment later a slender, uniform-clad woman settled herself onto the arm of his chair. Treize looked up at her, glancing over the familiar figure of Zechs's 'Vlad the Impaler' with an appreciative eye.

Almost ten years Treize's senior in age, one step his senior in rank, the Academy's Covert Operations Instructor matched no-one's definition of pretty. To her students, a harsh manner, sharp facial features and scraped-back black hair made her seem utterly unapproachable, but Treize found her rather attractive. It helped, of course, that he had seen her out of her severely tailored uniform and with that midnight-hued hair free about her shoulders, but, in truth, it was her air of confidence and competence, her fierce intelligence and razor-sharp wit that he found most alluring. That she was pure-blooded Russian aristocracy, fluent in his native language and possessed of the accent to prove it, only helped her charms in his opinion. The lilting roll of her words, even when she spoke in other languages, was frequently a balm to his acute hearing.

"Do I dare to ask what you were doing to keep you from sleep all night, darling?" she teased.

Rolling his eyes, Treize responded in their shared tongue. "Nothing so fun, Lilishka. I was nurse-maiding cadets."

"Ah. I thought Luca Noin and Otto Maxillian looked a touch on the green side in my class this morning – and your little Marquise was missing altogether. What happened?"

Treize sighed and closed his eyes. "It turns out it was Noin's birthday yesterday, so she and a group of her friends took off to the city. They didn't turn in again until gone two, and then every one of them was rolling drunk. Zechs was stupid enough to stand up to me when I reamed them, so I hauled him back to my rooms to argue it out with him, and then spent the rest of the night looking after him when the alcohol made him sick."

"Oh, poor Treize. Your protégé has finally discovered adolescent rebellion, has he? I trust you made him suffer for the privilege?"

Treize shook his head. "I haven't had to. He's spent most of today counting the cost of his actions in the bottom of a bucket."

"Oh, even better. That should lend him some sense for next time then."

Treize nodded his agreement, but cringed internally. For all that he believed, as the major did, that the first hang-over was usually the best lesson they could offer their trainees in respecting strong liquor, he wasn't sure that was so in this case.

Zechs had managed to sleep curled against Treize for almost an hour before he had woken violently, gagging as his body fought to be rid of the unfamiliar alcohol he had drunk. Kneeling on the carpet by the couch, half supported by his teacher, the boy had retched into the bucket Treize had known he would need until there was nothing left in him and he was shaking with the strain.

The older man had spoken to him with a mix of sympathy and reproval as the blinding headache kicked in and left Zechs flinching from even the dimmest light, but by the time Treize returned from dealing with his classmates the younger man seemed so ill that the instructor was genuinely worried. Grateful for the fact that he had no morning classes to teach, Treize had sat with Zechs until lunchtime, when the boy had fallen into an exhausted, fretful sleep a few minutes before the older man had to leave him alone.

Determined that he was calling for medical support if Zechs was no better when he returned to his rooms in the late afternoon, Treize had been relieved to see him sitting up and reading a borrowed book, albeit still looking rather woebegone. The older man had spoken with him briefly and then sent him back to barracks, but those few sentences had been almost enough to convince him that Zechs didn't care how ill he'd been.

Soft fingers brushed against his face, drawing his attention from his musing.

"Treize, darling, you look positively worn out. Whatever is the matter?"

He opened his eyes, and smiled at his companion. "Nothing much. I'm worried about Zechs, that's all. I've never seen him so ill, but it doesn't seem to have convinced him drinking is a bad idea."

Liliya smiled. "You borrow trouble, darling. He'll learn eventually – they all do. Still, better alcohol than sex, I think. That one will truly be dangerous when he learns the rules of that game."

Genuine amusement sparked in his deep eyes as Treize took advantage of the empty room to pull the lithe, long-limbed woman from his chair arm into his lap. "I'll tell him you said so. Keep your hands off him, Lils, or I won't be happy with you."

"Darling! So possessive! I can see why you'd want to break him in yourself, but I didn't think you went that way?"

Treize glared at her. "I don't. Even if I did, I wouldn't touch him like that, and I don't want you to, either. Leave him alone."

Raising an eyebrow, the major pulled the chopsticks holding her hair free. "He might appreciate the lesson, you know. You did."

The look he shot at her then had broken the nerve of officers twice his age, but she simply laughed. "You needn't worry, darling. I wouldn't waste my time with him. If any woman were going to get that one, Luca Noin would have had him twelve months ago. If you're looking to keep him pure, you're looking at entirely the wrong gender."

Treize blinked. "What?"

"Didn't you know? I would have thought he'd have confessed to you by now." She shook her head, settling her hair around her in an ebony cloud. "He's as gay as they get, darling, and I imagine, by now, that he knows it – even if he hasn't done anything about it yet."

"Are you sure?" Treize asked, wondering suddenly if this was what Zechs hadn't been able to phrase the night before, when the older man had asked him if he loved Noin.

"Of which? That he has no interest in women, or that he's still a virgin?" She shrugged, curled her legs up under her and turned around gracefully until she was facing him. "Both. It's my job to know such things about people. Perhaps you should talk to him, no?"

"Perhaps I should." Treize started to sit up, catching Liliya with his hands around her narrow waist to set her on her feet.

The major used the leverage to shift her position, settling with a knee on either side of one of his legs in the chair. "Da, Treize, darling. You should talk to him. But not now." She smiled slowly. "I locked the door when I came in."

Treize raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I thought you might appreciate a little peace and quiet," she murmured, wriggling slightly in his lap.

Treize looked at her curiously. "I do, thank you." He tilted his head as she wriggled again – tiny, rhythmical shifts of her weight against his leg. "Lils…"

"I was thinking about the curriculum for next term," she began, running her hands through her hair to draw it back from her face. She twisted it into a knot at the back of her head, holding it there for a moment before letting it drop back around her shoulders as she stretched up, arching her back. "I'm scheduled to teach the senior class practical covert… insertion… techniques," she continued.

Treize stared at her – had it been his imagination that had put the pause in that sentence? It wasn't his imagination that had her rocking herself against his leg, he was sure, nor that had her wearing the stockings he could just see under the hem of her hiked up skirt. He shifted in his seat and tugged his jacket down, trying to hide the somewhat predictable effect she was having on his body. He had no idea what she was up to – if she was up to anything at all – and even less desire to make **a** fool of himself by reacting like an over-eager teenager. "Oh? Where do I come into this?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay level.

He realised what he'd just said as her face bloomed into **a** predatory smile. "Treize, darling …" she purred, rocking as she hesitated. "I'd like you to assist me."

"Really?" Treize asked as his breath caught. "I've always thought you quite skilled at handling such things yourself."

Liliya smiled at his return sally and leaned forward, pressing one knee into him as she fiddled with his belt buckle with the polished fingers of her right hand. "I'm sure I could," she admitted, "but – as I'm sure you appreciate…" Her fingers dropped from his belt, brushing against him, "… a helping hand is always a welcome addition to proceedings."

Treize jumped as she touched him, biting his lip to suppress his gasp. She _was_ playing with him; he was under no illusion of that now. Whether she intended to let him get anything out of it, however, or whether this was all purely for her amusement remained to be seen. It wouldn't be the first time she'd wound him up only to walk away after she'd had her fun and leave him wanting.

She chuckled low in her throat. "You seem a little breathless, darling. Are you feeling alright?" She looked at him steadily, expression showing only friendly concern. "Is there anything I can do to help, or should I leave you to your peace and quiet? This really can wait until another time…"

She made as if to stand up and walk away. Treize caught her waist in his hands and held her. "You can help!" he insisted.

Liliya stopped in place, not moving at all as she looked down at him, her head on one side. "You'll have to ask nicely, darling," she told him.

Treize shook his head, feeling the ragged edges of his self–control beginning to fray. She'd done this to him before… she _always_ did this to him! "Lilishka, please!" he pleaded, knowing he had to play the game her way or she _would_ get up and leave.

"Please, what?" she asked. "What do you want? You'll have to be more specific…" As she spoke, she took up rocking back and forwards again, tearing a groan from him as her knee rubbed against him.

"Oh, Christ!" he gasped. "Fuck me, Lils. Please!"

Liliya laughed at him, but it was friendly. "A man who knows what he wants," she murmured. "You always were that, darling. And you know how to ask so nicely, too." She wound her fingers into his hair and leaned forward to kiss him.

She kept it chaste to begin with, a light pressure of her mouth against his until Treize slid his hands from her waist up her spine, catching her in his arms and crushing her to him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue traced over her lower lip and she opened her mouth, giving him what he wanted. She could taste the coffee he'd been drinking to stay awake, and the subtle, clean flavour underneath it that she knew was unique to Treize.

Liliya broke their kiss when Treize began moving under her, resting back on his leg for a moment before slithering to the floor to sit on her heels at his feet. He moved to follow her, thinking she'd chosen to go for the only space they had in the room that would allow them to lie down full length, and Liliya stopped him with one fingertip in the middle of his chest.

"Stay, darling," she commanded.

Treize stared at her for a moment, wondering what the hell she was up to now, and then allowed his body to fall back into the support of the chair.

She held still for a second, trapping his gaze with hers, and then came to her knees, bending a little until she could reach out and rest one hand on him through his clothes. Treize caught his breath at the weight of her hand and the warmth of it as it seeped through the layers of fabric. The feeling granted him both relief and the surety of further frustration – the certainty of eventual release and the knowledge that she'd make him wait to get there.

He sighed as she began to move her hand, petting him slowly for a second before she leant further forwards and kissed him through his clothes. Light touches, little butterfly kisses along his length mixed with the occasional harder nip from her perfect teeth that made his eyes close as heat shot through his nerves. "Lils," he gasped, and she laughed softly, her breath warmer even than her hand had been.

She worked him like that for a minute or two, until his breathing had gone ragged with the taunting pleasure and his mounting need. At almost exactly the point where he would have shoved her back onto the floor and taken her, she pulled away and looked up at him with a smile.

"Am I cruel for teasing you like this?"

"Very!" he protested.

"Would you like me to go down on you, then, darling?" she enquired sweetly.

Treize shivered in response to her words, delivered so innocently in that accented voice. "Oh, God!" he breathed.

Liliya chuckled. "I'll take that as your agreement," she murmured.

Treize moaned, feeling her nails scrape at the skin on his stomach as she reached past the top of his trousers to free the concealed fastening. He silently thanked whatever deity was listening for a woman who'd served in the Specials and knew how to work the overly fussy details of their uniforms – there was nothing worse than having things get held up whilst his partner struggled with his clothes.

Liliya pulled the woven, white fabric of his trousers apart and away just enough that she could rest her hand on him again, much as she had at the start. He groaned - the sensations, transmitted now only through the thin layer of his underwear, were so much more intense than they had been. The fine, flexible material of his form fitting shorts allowed her to fold her hand around him and press the tips of her nails into him as she stroked him. Her touch was firm and sure, the pressure of her fingers perfect, though she was moving her hand far slower than he would have liked – deliberately so, he had no doubt. She'd done this to him before – had watched him do it to himself at her command – often enough that she knew what worked for him.

Treize felt himself beginning to sweat in his heavy jacket. He knew what she was planning to do, but if she didn't stop teasing him and get the hell on with it, it was just possible that he'd have to kill her.

Liliya let him go abruptly, lifting her hand away and glancing up at him with a scowl, almost as though she had read what he was thinking. She propped her elbow on his knee, then leaned her chin on her hand and stared down at him, clearly thinking about something. "You've presented me with a problem, darling," she murmured after the stillness had dragged on a seeming eternity. "It makes getting at you so very difficult when you dress so very… regulation."

Treize glared at her, unaccustomed and uncomfortable colour staining the pale skin of his face as he realised what she meant. "What in God's name do you expect me to wear under these damn pants?" he demanded. "Tight, white jodhpurs don't leave a great deal of choice in what goes under them, unless you intend for everyone you walk past to know what that is. What would you suggest I wear?"

She shrugged gracefully. "Anything other than uniform-issue shorts, darling. They're not flattering, even on you, and so awkward at times like this." She smiled. "You could, perhaps, try wearing nothing at all."

"I wasn't planning to be jumped by you in the staff lounge when I dressed this morning!"

"Ah, yes, but didn't I teach you to always be prepared for any eventuality?" Liliya shot him an impish look and began undoing the buttons on her uniform coat. "Never mind, darling. I have a solution." She shook off her coat, and moved her hands to the buttons of her silk blouse, tugging it from the waistband of her skirt. Treize smiled at her lacy underwear, noting that it was as far removed from regulation issue as it was possible to get.

One slender hand traced a path from the top of her skirt, up her stomach and then followed the line of her bra across her ribcage until her hand was behind her. For a moment, he thought she was going to unfasten her bra, but then her hand reappeared and he froze.

She smiled and flicked open the folding knife she'd had hooked over the back of her bra. It had fit so well into the hollow line of her spine that he hadn't been able to feel it even when he'd been holding her on his lap. "Now, Treize, darling – don't move," she instructed.

Liliya came to her knees again, leaned forward and set the knife, point first, against the fabric of his shorts. Treize went rigid, heart pounding in a moment of sheer terror as she sliced upwards.

"There," she told him, slipping the knife away and pushing back the material she had cut out of her way. "Creative thinking, no?"

"Jesus Christ, woman!"

"There, now, darling. Did I frighten you?"

Treize glared at her, eyes wide. "Frighten me?! Are you out of your mind?!"

Liliya snorted delicately. "Oh, hush, darling. I didn't hurt you." She smiled at him and took him in her hands, caressing his length hand over hand until he closed his eyes and moaned.

Nudging his knees out of her way, she moved a little closer and bent down. The thumb and first finger of her right hand slipped round the base of his erection, holding him away from his body as the other hand gently pulled the loose skin back. Soft hair fell forward, brushing his skin as she kissed the tip of him lightly, then put her tongue out and lapped at the gathering fluid like a cat.

Treize hissed as she did it again a little harder, and then again. Slowly she picked up speed, interspersing her licks with kisses and the occasional stroke of her hand until he was panting and shaking. It was a sensation he loved, but it was intense, frustrating beyond belief and, mixed with the adrenaline spike of his earlier panic, completely overwhelming. "Lils… God!"

A heartbeat before the feeling crossed the barrier between pleasure and pain, Liliya lifted her head, gave him a moment to draw a deep breath, and then laid a row of kisses down his length, lapped at the base and licked back to the top in one smooth stroke.

She paused, breathed out and swallowed him, opening her throat until she could take all of him, her mouth brushing her fingers.

Treize cried out, the shock bringing him bolt upright in the chair, sinking his fingers into the velvet covered arms. "Christ, Lils! Christ!" He collapsed back into the cushions as she pulled up, sucking at him as she did, and brought her hand back to wrap around his shaft as she focused her mouth on the head. Stroking with her hand, she twisted her wrist with each movement – a trick she knew drove him crazy – and lapped at him, curling her tongue around his tip within the seal she'd made of her lips as she bobbed gently in time with her hand.

Treize was slumped in the chair now, hands clutching the arms with desperate strength. Little, high-pitched, whimpering cries were being torn from him on the end of each panting gasp for air. Liliya picked up her rhythm, using the pitch of his moans and the way he was moving under her to judge how close he was to release, working with all her skill until her jaw began to ache.

She knew from his sudden, ragged babble in Russian – most of which would not have been repeatable in polite company – that he was on the edge of climax. His breathless moan of "Oh, God, Lilishka!" and the clumsy fingers catching at her hair were unnecessary, but she appreciated it that he was gentleman enough, even in the state she'd reduced him to, to give her warning.

She looked up at him, gazing at him through the curtain of her hair, her eyes showing a mix of her own passion and cool indifference, and Treize broke, throwing his head back against the chair as he came hard.

At the very last second, Liliya lifted her head and let his fluid spill onto the skin of her chest and the lacy material of her bra, knowing the visual treat would please him as much as it suited her own purposes. It was a rare occurrence indeed that she let any man finish in her mouth, and she almost never swallowed – Treize was one of only two men ever who could make that claim.

He moaned softly as he relaxed into the cushions, whimpering when even the gentle petting of her fingers against his softening body was too much for him. Liliya let him go completely, straightened his clothing for him and stood up to put her own to rights. The work of a few seconds saw her use a handful of tissues from the box on one of the low tables to wipe her skin clean, and redress. Within a minute or two, the use of the tiny folding hairbrush and makeup compact she kept in the pouch on her jacket belt had her restored to the perfect, icily-cool, Major Valadin her students were familiar with.

Treize was still slumped in his chair, eyes closed. Smiling gently – an expression even he wouldn't have credited her as being capable of – she made her way across the room to him and stood looking down at him for a moment before reaching out and brushing back the few strands of his hair that had fallen out of his styling in his exertions.

She could feel him trembling under her hand, though his breathing was easy now. Seeing him like this was half the reason she went to such efforts to please him. His body still reacting to the firestorm of pleasure that had torn through it, all his customary defences were down. He looked, in these stolen moments, simply what he was – a slim, handsome young man of almost twenty – and not the politically savvy model officer.

Liliya settled herself onto the arm of his chair again, waiting for him to come round from his stupor.

Treize had taken his gloves off at some point before she arrived, and the dying evening light streaming through the French windows caught suddenly on the polished metal band circling the third finger of his left hand. It was an unusual piece, completely unlike the traditional plain gold wedding ring. A tiny, star-shaped sapphire was the only ornamentation in the flat surface of a narrow band made from a brushed, silver-coloured, matt metal Liliya knew was suit-quality titanium. She shook her head – it was pretty thing that marked the only real mistake she'd ever known him make.

Liliya was one of the few members of the Specials who knew Treize was married – she wasn't even certain that all of his family knew. He'd been a member of the Academy faculty for only a few months when he'd met Leia Barton whilst shepherding a group of cadets on a training mission to the L3 colonies. Liliya hadn't been all that surprised to find out that he'd slept with the girl – Leia was rather pretty, and he was a seventeen year old under a fair amount of stress, and with no prior attachments.

Liliya had been surprised when it became apparent that Treize considered Leia more than a casual fling. It had been obvious that he felt genuine affection for her. Still, he clearly hadn't ever been expecting to hear from her again once he returned to Earth.

The arrival of Leia on Earth, and the rather distraught comm. call she had used to tell Treize of her presence had been a shock. The news she had had come to Earth to tell him had been more of one. Never in a million years had Liliya ever expected to have Treize ask her advice on what to do with an ex-girlfriend of his who'd turned up pregnant.

Liliya's advice had been succinct and to the point – marrying the girl hadn't been an option she'd given him. She'd also raised the question of how he'd been stupid enough to get Leia pregnant in the first place. The resulting, stumbled answer, complete with scarlet blushes had almost made the whole sorry scenario worth it.

Treize stirred under her hand, shifting as he settled further into the soft cushions of his chair and opened lazy eyes. Liliya stroked careless fingers through his hair, delighting in mussing the neat, glossy waves. "How's that darling little girl of yours?" she asked.

Treize smiled. "Mariemeia? Beautiful, as always. Growing. Walking, talking." The softness of Treize's expression reminded Liliya that, whatever else, he'd taken to being a father as easily as he had to piloting a mobile suit. She got to her feet, and stood looking down at him again for a moment.

Liliya had met Leia on a few occasions, including at the wedding, and had been surprised to find that she didn't instantly dislike her. The girl was quiet, pretty, well educated, somewhat politically astute, and far savvier than Treize, after almost two years of marriage, gave her credit for being. She'd been raised to be **a** wife to a powerful man, and she held up her end of the bargain in that respect well. If Treize had to be married at all, he could, politically speaking, have done far worse.

Unfortunately, good for Treize's career as Leia might prove to be, she was a disaster for his personal life – as the last few minutes proved. The term was less than three weeks old, Treize had spent the break at home. If Leia had been enough for him in a personal sense Liliya wouldn't have been almost able to knock him out with one hurried encounter in the staff lounge.

"I'll see you tomorrow, darling," Liliya murmured, heading for the door.

Treize sat up, looking over the back of the chair in surprise as she walked towards it. "What?"

"I'll see you tomorrow. I really do want your help with that class, so I need to discuss the details with you. Goodnight – sleep well."

"Yes… you too… uhm…"

The major smiled as she put her hand on the door handle. "Oh, and darling? You owe me," she informed him as she left the room, leaving him staring after her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Mid-October AC 190: Lake Victoria Military Academy_

Zechs clicked the last button of his dress uniform into place, ran a hand over his perfectly combed hair and slid his glasses onto his nose, glancing in the mirror and scowling in displeasure at his reflection. Growing his hair out had been a great idea in principle, but it was starting to look a little untidy now, past due for being trimmed, and the cadet dress uniform wasn't, in his opinion, particularly flattering.

Still, it was what he was expected to wear – Treize would be in his own dress uniform – and the alternative was to not accompany the older man on his outing at all.

The instructor had held him back at the end of his last class of the term, to inform Zechs that he was planning to stay at the Academy over the looming term-break – he had work he needed to get done if he wanted to go home for Christmas – and to ask what Zechs wanted to do. With the news that Treize was staying put, Zechs had made the instant decision to stay as well, refusing Treize's offer to have any of his houses made ready for the younger man. There was work Zechs could be doing as well, and there didn't seem to be much point in going somewhere else to be alone.

Treize had smiled at his explanation, accepted it with his usual grace and then told the cadet there was a performance of one of the older man's favourite operas taking place in the city during the break. Treize was considering attending, and did Zechs want to go along and keep him company?

Zechs had smiled, agreed readily and they'd parted.

A rustle at the door to his room made Zechs look away from the reflection he wasn't seeing anymore. He turned his attention to the slender figure framed by the light from the corridor and blinked in surprise.

When Noin had found out that Zechs was planning to stay for the break, she had immediately offered to stay as well. The work Zechs had been planning on tackling was for a joint project with the other cadet so he couldn't really refuse, and Treize, on learning Noin was staying too had immediately invited her to join the two of them at the opera. Noin had been flustered, but pleased by the invite, and had disappeared some hours earlier to 'get ready' as she put it.

Why it should take her any longer to put her uniform on than it did Zechs had been a puzzle to the boy, but seeing her now, he understood. She wasn't wearing her uniform.

The girl stepped into the room with a shaky smile. "Well?" she asked. "What do you think?"

Her hair pulled back from her face with some sort of slide, her eyes lined with kohl and shadowed, her mouth darkened with lipstick, Noin looked rather different from the way Zechs was used to seeing her. In place of her uniform she'd chosen to wear an outfit made of what looked like lavender silk. The tight-fitting top left her shoulders and arms bare, and the long skirt emphasized the long legs she was still growing into. Fine gold jewellery glinted at her throat and ears, and on the strap of the purple velvet purse she was carrying.

Zechs tilted his head to one side as he studied her, comparing her mentally to how she looked in uniform, and smiled. "You look very pretty," he said truthfully.

Noin blossomed into a wide smile, and dropped him a little bob of a curtsey as she blushed at the compliment. "Thanks, Zechs. Are you ready?"

The boy nodded. "I just need my gloves."

"Okay."

Zechs grabbed his gloves from the table he'd put them on, and switched the lights off in the dorm as he followed Noin out of the door.

Treize was waiting for them in the courtyard between the cadet barracks and the instructors' apartment building, the strong wind tugging at the cloak of his uniform as he leaned on the idling car.

"Good evening, Zechs," he greeted. "Cadet Noin, you look absolutely charming."

"Thank you, sir, and thank you for inviting me."

"You're welcome. Would you both like to get in the car – we should be leaving shortly."

Noin nodded her head and slid onto the back seat of the car, smiling a greeting at the chauffeur. Zechs didn't move until she was inside and then he looked up at the taller man, noting absently that he didn't have to tilt his head back nearly as far as he would have had to a year earlier. "Are we waiting for something?" he asked.

"Someone, rather," Treize replied. "I asked Major Valadin to join us."

Zechs scowled, not pleased by this information – his dreams of a quiet evening out with just his friend were slowly being corroded. Noin's inclusion had been bad enough, but at least he liked her. Valadin was a first class bitch. "Why?" he asked, careful to keep his voice from taking on any hint of a whine.

Treize shot him a look that Zechs couldn't decipher. "I'm well aware that you don't like her much, Zechs, but she is a friend of mine. She's spent the break here, too. Good manners alone dictated that I ask her."

"Yes, I suppose they did," Zechs agreed, his tone dry.

Treize smiled at him, then turned his head as a shadow blocked the light. Zechs fought to keep from staring and knew he hadn't succeeded when Treize's smile took on an impish quality as he shot a sideways look at the cadet before he stepped forward to greet the last member of their party.

Zechs had spent almost two-thirds of his life calling Moscow his primary home. Once taken in by the Khushrenadas and befriended by their only son and heir, he had spent several idyllic years moving from estate to estate with the family. Those estates were scattered all over Europe, and Treize's mother had, in fact, been French by birth – but the ties with Mother Russia had been strong, and Russian had been the language spoken by the family between themselves. Zechs's command of the language was far from perfect, and Treize told him almost every time he tried to say something in it that his accent was hideous, but it was good enough to allow him to translate most of the seemingly-friendly banter that passed between the two officers as Treize took the Major's hand in his own, bowed and laid a light kiss on the back of it.

"Major, you look absolutely breath-taking."

"Treize, darling, of course I do. Would you expect anything else?"

"Oh, never!"

Treize gestured towards the car, and then held the door for Valadin as she slid into it and settled herself next to Noin. She folded the skirts of her black silk dress around her and pooling the gauzy material of her wrap into her lap, revealing slender, white skinned shoulders left bare by the halter-neck of the gown.

Zechs blinked as he stared – somehow, he hadn't imagined that the harsh officer whose class he had to suffer through on a regular basis could look like this when she put her mind to it.

Treize prodded Zechs in the side, prompting him to scramble into the car. A moment later, the older man sat down next to him and tapped on the glass divide to tell the driver to go.

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The closing notes of the second act of the opera washed over him, swelling to an almost too loud intensity before fading away. Treize closed his eyes as he listened, then opened them again as the momentary silence gave way to growing applause. He joined in, briefly, then sat back and looked around as his companions began to talk.

Zechs and Noin seemed to be talking about the first half of the production quite merrily. Noin, child of Venice, wouldn't have needed the surtitles to understand the Italian dialogue, and Zechs had always been as fond of _Rigoletto_ as Treize himself was. Beside him, Valadin came to her feet, holding his glance for a second to let him know she wouldn't be long. Treize smiled at her back as she left the box – he doubted either of the cadets had been able to tell, but the Major was bored out of her wits.

The trouble with that was that a bored Liliya had a tendency to do some quite extreme things to entertain herself – the vast majority of which wouldn't be appropriate in the current circumstances.

He shook his head and turned to his charges, smoothly joining their debate, not noticing the time passing until the lights began to dim again and the heavy safety curtain across the front of the stage began to lift.

Just as the orchestra took up the opening notes of the third act, Valadin slid her slender figure back into her seat at his side and smiled at him impishly.

The look in her eyes, even in the dim light, was enough to warn him that he'd been right to suspect that she was up to something, but it was almost half an hour later when he felt her hand slip into the concealed pocket of his breeches, lingering – a pleasant warmth in a rather intimate area – for a second before disappearing again. He glanced at her, distracted from the business on the stage, to see that her eyes were firmly fixed on the performance, nothing about her expression showing anything was amiss.

He settled himself further into his seat, pondering what she was up to this time, and the movement made him aware of the object in his pocket that hadn't been there before her hand had been.

Cautiously, he slid his own fingers into his pocket and felt at the article curiously, surprised when he encountered the softness of fabric – cool satin and rough lace. He wondered, briefly, why she'd passed him a handkerchief, and then his fingers scratched on the slip of paper she'd concealed in the folds.

He withdrew his hand and brought the note up so he could read it in the light coming form the stage.

'_Treize, darling…_

_I thought I would save you some time later._

_Liliya.'_

Sudden heat touched his face as he realised exactly what it was she'd slipped into his pocket. A glance in her direction showed her smiling at him speculatively and he leaned over to whisper to her.

"Your underwear, Lils?"

She gave him a graceful shrug. "As I said in the note – I thought I'd save you some effort. I rather think you'll need every drop of strength you have… you owe me, darling, remember?"

Treize stared at her for a moment, then nodded before he glanced back to the performance he abruptly had no interest in.

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The car ride was as smooth and as brief as the journey into the City had been – the Specials made a point of maintaining the suspension on their staff vehicles – and the party made the ride in almost complete silence. Valadin was staring out of the window at the passing landscape, Noin had her head on Zechs's shoulder and seemed to be falling asleep, and Treize was staring at some point in space, his deep blue eyes unfocused as he contemplated something only he could see.

The car pulled into the courtyard of the Academy and drew to a halt in almost exactly the same place as it had started the evening in. Still lost in thought, Treize grasped the door handle, pulled and unfolded his long limbs out of the car, leaning down to offer a hand to Major Valadin. The older woman took it and joined him in the cool night air.

Irritated, Zechs shook himself, tore his gaze away from his friend and climbed out of the other door.

Treize smiled at him over the roof of the car. "Would either of you care for a night cap?" he asked, including Noin in his question with his gaze.

Zechs shot a brief glance at the slender figure of Valadin, standing, in his opinion, far too close to his friend, and shook his head. "No, thank you."

"Alright. I'll see you both tomorrow, then."

"I imagine so," Zechs agreed, and stood, Noin at his side, watching as the two officers walked towards the building that housed their flats, Treize's hand uncharacteristically in his pocket as it had been for half the evening.

Noin tugged lightly on his arm. "Zechs? It's cold out here – come back to my rooms, will you?"

Shaking his head as he let go of the sight of the older man, Zechs turned around to look down at the girl he was with and forced a smile for her sake. She really was shivering in the chilly air, and some impulse prompted him to slide an arm around her shoulders to lend her warmth as he began walking towards the barracks, consenting to her suggestion by steering their progress towards her rooms rather than the one he shared with Otto.

Noin unlocked her door without really looking at it, and dropped her purse on the floor by the door. "Sit down," she told him as she flicked the reading light by the bed on for illumination.

Glancing around cursorily, Zechs settled himself onto the neatly made sheets of Noin's bunk for lack of anywhere else to sit other than the hard chair behind the desk. Noin stayed standing in the middle of the room, her hands clasped together in front of her, fingers twisting together as though she were worried about something.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked suddenly. "I have some of the vodka Cathy got me for my birthday left if…"

Zechs shook his head. "I'm fine. Noin…"

"Okay." Her voice seemed to catch on the word, trailing off into a squeak. "Uhm, just stay there a moment, will you. I… I won't be long…" She bit her lip, stared at him for a moment, and then turned on her heel and all but ran into the bathroom.

Zechs watched her go, wondering what the hell was up with her – she'd been edgy and acting oddly for days now, refusing to relax around him the way she normally did. He had thought at first that he might have done something to upset her, but he had squashed that idea long since – after all, she'd hardly have invited him back to her rooms if she was ticked off at him for something.

Waiting in the darkened and too-silent room, Zechs found himself becoming nervous in his own turn. She was up to something, of that he was sure, but he didn't have the first clue what, and he'd never been fond of surprises. The odd noises coming from the bathroom weren't helping any, either.

He was just about to get up and go and see what she was doing when the bathroom door opened again.

Zechs felt his mouth drop open and his eyebrows disappear into his hairline as he took in Noin's appearance. "Noin… what…?!"

For whatever reason, whilst she'd been in the bathroom, the girl had taken off her lilac skirt and top and had reappeared in the doorway in only her underwear.

For a moment she stayed in the doorframe, backlit by the light from the bathroom, and then she took a hesitant step towards him and the full details of her attire could be seen. Zechs felt himself colour, and he looked away, fixing his gaze firmly on the floor, refusing to look at her any longer. That he'd seen her in more revealing swimwear any number of times wasn't the point.

"Zechs?" she asked quietly, coming another step or two into the room. "Look at me, Zechs, please. I…I want you to."

Zechs shook his head, keeping his gaze on the floor. "Noin… what are you doing?"

She answered him with a high-pitched, strained giggle. "Uhm… I was hoping that would be sort of obvious…"

"Oh. Noin…"

Three unsteady steps in her heeled shoes brought Noin to her classmate's side and she caught at his arm, trying to make him look at her. "Zechs, please. What's wrong? I thought you liked me?"

Zechs swallowed uncomfortably, trying to work out what he'd done to deserve being in this situation. "I do, Noin. You're my friend, but…"

"Your friend?" Noin asked sharply, letting him go. "Nothing else?"

The blond shook his head, shooting her a bewildered glance. "Isn't that enough? What else should there be?"

The girl's eyes widened. "I thought… you've been acting… I thought you _liked me_ – liked me. As a woman…" She looked away, clearly upset. "But you don't, do you? You've never even thought of me like that, have you?"

"No." Zechs shook his head again, cringing and questioned what he'd done to lead her into thinking that. "I'm sorry, Noin…"

Anger flared in violet eyes. "You're sorry?! I've just made a complete fool of myself and all you can say is that you're sorry?!"

"I didn't ask you to come out here in your underwear," Zechs pointed out reasonably.

Noin stiffened, and for a heartbeat the blond wondered whether she was going to hit him – she looked ready to.

"Maybe not with words, you didn't!" she exploded. "But what do you call the way you've been behaving? The opera tonight, all the nights out, the trouble you got in for my birthday! You did all that because you're my friend? I don't think so!"

Zechs stared at her and took a step back. "Noin, what are you talking about?!" he demanded. "_Treize_ invited you to the opera tonight, half our class goes on those nights out, and I did what I did on your birthday because it _was_ your birthday!"

She glared at him, setting her hands on her hips stubbornly. "That's not what everyone else thinks. Ask any of our class…"

"Who?" Zechs shot back, feeling his own temper flare to match hers.

"Everyone! Cathy… Otto…" Noin listed, gesturing sharply with her hands.

"Cathy, I can believe. That sycophantic little tart will tell you anything you want to hear."

"Watch it! Cathy is my friend!"

"She's a deadweight and the sooner you cut her loose, the better it will be for your career," the boy told her, shaking his head. "The only reason she got into the Academy at all was because the class was short on girls and her father is a General."

"Like you can say anything about nepotism! Do you really think they'd let you get away with half of what you do if you weren't the Khushrenadas' pet orphan?!"

Zechs went still. "Don't talk about what you don't understand!" he hissed.

They stood glaring at each other, a few steps apart in the darkened room, until Zechs tilted his head to one side and smiled coldly. "What did Otto say, then?"

Noin shook back the strands of her hair that were falling in her face and lifted her chin. "He said 'I can't imagine why that wouldn't work'!"

The blond snorted with laughter. "You missed the sarcasm, didn't you?"

"He wasn't being sarcastic! Otto's not like that!"

"Otto's always 'like that'. He redefines the term 'bitchy' on a constant basis! Christ, he makes me look straight!"

Noin swallowed, paling as Zechs realised what he'd said without thinking. "…look straight…" she breathed, clearly horrified. "You're gay?"

The boy hesitated, then nodded. "I wasn't going to tell you, but… yes."

The other pilot looked at him steadily for the space of a few breaths, somehow managing to be intimidating despite the ridiculousness of her dress, then she bit her lip. "Get out," she instructed.

"Noin?" Zechs asked, bewildered – they'd had screaming rows before, over the two years they'd been cadets together, but she'd never thrown him out before. Maybe this was more serious than he had thought.

"Get out!" Noin repeated, her voice rising to a shout.

The blond fell back a pace or two, shocked. "Noin, I…" he stumbled, trying to find a way to smooth things over.

"Why weren't you going to tell me?!" Noin spat. "Were you waiting for me to make a fool of myself like this so you could humiliate me completely?!"

"Of course not! I just…"

"You and Otto, laughing at me behind my back! Is he any good in bed!?"

"Noin! I've never…"

"I don't care! Get out, Zechs!"

Zechs swallowed hard, then nodded. "Alright. I'll see you in the morning."

He made for the door and as he stepped through it he heard Noin hiss, "Not if I can help it, you won't!"

Zechs made his way back to the room he shared with Otto during the term, his head reeling. He still didn't know what had prompted Noin's clumsy attempt at a seduction of him – he'd realised too late that was what she had been trying to do – or how she could have missed something about him that he had believed, and been told, was rather obvious. Otto had seemed to know Zechs was gay before he himself did.

In truth, his roommate was the only person in his life he'd ever discussed the subject with directly, though he was certain there were other people that knew.

It was a sensitive topic for Zechs, who hadn't enjoyed the realisation of his preferences at all. There had been so much about his life that was different and dramatic that this addition had been particularly painful. It had robbed him of his childish dreams of growing up, marrying and creating for himself the family that had been stolen away by political whim, become another reason why he had nothing in common with all of his friends. Without the easy acceptance Otto had been able to give him, the support offered by someone who had experienced the same thing, Zechs wasn't sure it was a blow he could have taken. He was well aware that his wasn't the most stable of personalities.

Why Noin should assume he hadn't told her in order to use the information to hurt her was beyond him. If she'd listened, he would have explained that he hadn't ever _told_ anyone, not even Treize. He'd yet to work out how to break it to the older man, and if he couldn't face telling the instructor – who'd been Zechs's mainstay for more than half of his life – then he certainly wasn't ready to tell anyone else.

He unlocked his room without looking at his hands and sank onto the yielding surface of his bed in the darkness, his feelings whirling round and round in the same path. A biting mix of anger and upset, embarrassment and a tiny, growing thread of guilt at the thought that maybe he should have handled things better than he had.

He rolled over, pressing his face into his pillow as he wished he'd made himself find the courage to tell Treize of his preferences before tonight. He wanted to talk to his friend, needed to hear his voice and have the older man tell him things would be alright, as he hadn't for years. He felt now as he had as a child waking from the nightmares that had plagued him.

Zechs lay in the dark, trying to calm himself, until the clock on his bedside table beeped to show the change of hour, and then he rolled to his feet, infused with nervous determination. He wasn't going to be able to settle enough for sleep on his own, it wasn't all that late and Treize had offered him a nightcap…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Mid-October AC 190_

_Lake Victoria Military Academy_

At first Zechs wasn't sure he was going to be able to get into the Officers building – he'd forgotten that the door was locked and coded. He'd lingered outside for nearly ten minutes, trying to work out how to get in – there was no caller, cadets weren't supposed to disturb their instructors – when another officer had appeared behind the door, obviously on his way out.

Fortunately for Zechs, that officer had been his engineering instructor, someone he'd always gotten on well with, and the man had held the door with an understanding smile and a conspiratorial instruction not to tell anyone.

Zechs had nodded his gratitude and all but run through the lobby and up the stairs, finding Treize's door with ease despite the fact that he'd only ever been in his rooms that once. He took a moment to straighten his uniform and slow his breathing, and then he knocked on the door.

There was no answer, and Zechs began to frown. Was it possible that Treize could have gone to bed and to sleep already? Zechs didn't think so but it was after midnight, so it was possible. For a moment, he hesitated before knocking again, wondering if he really needed to wake the older man before coming to the conclusion that Treize had never minded before, and that he really did need to talk to him.

He knocked again, waited a minute or two, and was in the process of raising a hand to knock a third time when the door opened.

"Zechs?" Treize sounded surprised and, oddly, a little alarmed. "What are you doing here?"

Zechs looked him over carefully, taking in the half unfastened breeches that were Treize's only clothing and his rumpled hair and decided that the older man really must have been in bed. "I'm sorry," he murmured, gesturing awkwardly. "I didn't mean to wake you, I just….Can I come in?" he asked.

Treize leant on the doorframe, keeping one hand on the back of the door. "You didn't wake me," he replied. "You look upset," he said. "Is something wrong?"

"No… yes… I…." Zechs swallowed. "Can I talk to you? Noin…."

Treize looked at him for a moment, then asked, "Is there any way it can wait until tomorrow?" His voice made it a question but there was something in his body language that suggested it was more of a command.

The younger man blinked, taken aback a little. He couldn't remember Treize ever putting him off before, for any reason. That his friend would always be there for him, whenever Zechs needed him, no matter what for, was something the cadet had never doubted. On more than one occasion, just that knowledge had been enough to soothe him.

"Zechs?" Treize asked again. "Can it wait?"

"I…," the cadet started, and then trailed off, not knowing what to say. He'd already decided, before coming here, that it couldn't, but surely Treize wouldn't ask at all if he didn't have to.

Almost immediately, that thought led Zechs to wonder what Treize was doing, dressed so informally, that could be so important. Not for one minute could Zechs believe that Treize would put him off simply so he could go back to bed, but he couldn't think of anything else that fit the facts he had at hand.

"Zechs?" Treize repeated a third time, and his voice held the first edge of impatience. "Can it wait?"

The blond drew himself upright. "If… if you're really that busy it can…," he said hesitantly, "but…."

Treize cut off his halting plea with a warm smile. "Thank you," he answered. "I promise I'll come and find you first thing tomorrow morning. Perhaps we could go into the city for the day?" he offered. "Have lunch somewhere and do some shopping? I really should be thinking of Christmas presents for Leia and Mariemeia – you might be able to help me," he suggested.

Zechs looked up at his teacher for a moment, under no illusions that Treize was trying to appease him. Whilst the idea of spending an entire day alone with the older man, out of uniform and off-base, and hunting for things to please little Marie, certainly had it's appeal, it wasn't at all what he needed from his friend.

Still, it seemed it was the best he was going to get.

Resigned, Zechs nodded. "Alright," he agreed.

Treize's smile took on a truly grateful note as Zechs stepped back, turning on his heel to make his way down the corridor.

"Treize, darling, who is it?"

The words were spoken from behind Treize and behind the half-closed door, and they made Zechs stop dead in the middle of the corridor from sheer disbelief. He knew that voice!

Eyes wide behind his glasses, posture tense, the cadet span back around to stare at his friend in utter shock.

Treize wasn't looking at him anymore – he'd twisted in the gap he'd left himself between the door and the doorframe to look over his shoulder into his room, obviously directing his attention to the speaker. "It's Zechs," he said quietly.

There was a silence, then a puzzled noise, then, "What does the boy want?"

Zechs drew a harsh breath. It hadn't been his imagination – it _was_ Major Valadin speaking from Treize's rooms.

Treize, apparently oblivious to the cadet, shook his head. "Nothing important," he answered. "He's about to leave. I'll be with you in a moment," he promised and there was something in his tone that Zechs really didn't like the sound of.

"Nothing important?" Zechs spluttered softly, caught between resentment that Treize would dismiss him for the harsh Russian woman and hurt that it should be so. "How do you know that?" he demanded.

Treize turned his head again, shooting the younger man a pleading glance, but Zechs wasn't in much of a mood to notice it. Treize had just completely ignored the same thing from him, so why should he do him any favours.

"How do you know it isn't important?" Zechs demanded again, letting his voice pick up a notch in volume. "You didn't exactly give me time to explain what it was I wanted!"

"Zechs, please," Treize started. "Go back to your rooms. I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Why?" Zechs asked. "What's wrong with now? You obviously aren't sleeping," he spat. He took a step forward, closing the distance between himself and the officer. "Do I even want to ask what you _are_ doing that's so important?" he challenged, temper rising. There was only viable explanation for what he was seeing, for Treize to be dressed as he was with Major Valadin in his rooms and the blond was having real trouble believing it.

He waited for Treize to answer him, to deny what Zechs was thinking, to offer an explanation that the blond had overlooked and, just when it became obvious that he wasn't going to do so, a slender hand prised the door from Treize's grip and opened it properly.

Major Valadin appeared in the resulting space and, for a moment, all Zechs could do was stare at her. This woman, robe barely wrapped around her, her hair loose and tumbled about her face and shoulders, couldn't possibly be his so-stern teacher. Even her almost alchemical transformation for the opera hadn't come close to this.

"Good evening, cadet," she greeted coolly, and it snapped Zechs right back to reality. "You do realise that you shouldn't be here, I trust?" she asked.

Forgetting completely that she was an adult, and his senior officer, the boy glared hotly. "Neither should you!" he returned shortly.

"Would you care to tell me how that is your decision to make?" Valadin asked. "Unlike you, who, might I point out, shouldn't even be out of bed, I was invited," she said.

Zechs snorted. "Invited?" he spluttered. "Oh, I'll bet you were." He cast a scathing glance at Treize, losing another notch on his hold of his temper when he saw the other man was avoiding his eyes assiduously, face tinged with a red flush. He obviously wasn't about to deny anything. "Invited," Zechs sneered. "By a man who had no right to make the invitation in the first place!" he hissed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zechs caught Treize's flinch as his words and he rounded on him angrily. "Does she know the full truth?" he challenged. "Or did you forget to mention that you're married?"

If Zechs was expecting his angry announcement to be greeted with outraged shrieks from the Russian woman, he was sadly disappointed. Instead of fury, Valadin laughed softly. "You have a very poor memory, cadet. Of course I know he's married – I was at his wedding. Does it matter?" she asked conversationally.

Surprise stopped Zechs for a moment as his memory automatically backtracked to his friend's wedding day. It hadn't been a small service for all the hurried nature of the planning, and there had been literally hundreds of people there. The Russian Major might well have been one of them but Zechs didn't remember seeing her. "

Pausing to recollect might have calmed him, if he hadn't then thought of how Leia Barton had looked as he spoke her vows to her husband. Outraged on behalf of a women who'd become an older sister to him, torn by the disappointment he was feeling with his oldest friend's behaviour, Zechs felt his temper slip his grasp. "Does it matter?" he snarled. "I imagine Leia might think so, even if, clearly, neither of you does! Have you even begun to think how devastated she'd be if she knew about this?!" he flung at Treize.

Once again, Valadin answered for the other Russian, this time by giving an airily dismissive wave with one hand. "But she doesn't know about this, darling, does she? And she isn't going to find out," she warned.

Zechs snorted contemptuously. "And you guarantee that how?" he enquired. "She deserves to know and you can hardly _order_ me not to tell her!"

Treize, until that moment, had been staring into the middle distance, an uncomfortable flush the only sign that he was hearing any of the exchange between his ward and his colleague, but at Zechs's threat his gaze snapped to the blond, cold and dangerous. "I can," he said softly. "And I am. I don't actually think you'd go so far as to upset Leia with unfounded accusations, but on the off chance that you think you're being noble, I'll warn you now that it would be a mistake."

"What?" Zechs gasped. "What unfounded accusations?!" he spluttered. "It's clear as fucking crystal what's happening here and neither of you has denied it…."

Treize stopped him with an upraised hand. "Prove it," he challenged quietly. "Can you? Or would it come down to your word against mine and which of us Leia believed most? Are you really willing to do that to her over something that doesn't concern you in the first place? No? Then forget this ever happened and go back to things that concern you."

Zechs, absolutely stunned, could do nothing but stare at his teacher in disbelieving outrage. "Treize?" he gasped.

"Yes, cadet?" the older man asked gently. "Was there something else? I believe the Major pointed out that you should be in bed but if you think you can conduct yourself as an adult, you're welcome to come in for that nightcap. Otherwise, I'll see you in the morning, yes?"

Mutely, unable to do anything else, Zechs nodded, and then he turned and fled down the corridor, not staying to watch as Treize stared after him helplessly for a moment at then turned his back, ushered Valadin back into his rooms and firmly closed the door behind the pair of them.

Once out in the cool night air, Zechs stood for a moment or two, too shocked to move, his head spinning as he tried to decide what to do next.

A moment later, without rational thought playing any part in his decision, Zechs made his way out of the gates and headed for the city.

a.a.a.a.

Treize shut the door behind himself and Liliya and sank back against it, suddenly needing the support it offered. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he pictured the wounded, betrayed expression Zechs had flashed him in the moment before he'd fled. "I'll have to go after him," Treize admitted quietly. "I feel awful for bullying him like that and I can't just let him go. It's not fair and he's not…."

Liliya strolled across the thick carpet dismissively. "He's not a child, Treize," she interrupted, "and you're not his father. He can look after himself, and you have prior commitments." She reached the desk he kept under the window and picked something up from the surface with one hand.

Treize shook his head again. "You don't understand, Lils. Zechs…."

The major turned to face Treize, her expression disapproving. "The cadet will be perfectly alright on his own. It won't harm him to learn there are things he has no control over. I, on the other hand, require your undivided attention."

"Yes, but…." Treize tried, and then jumped in fright.

The thin Academy Instructor's switch Liliya had picked up hissed through the air before cracking across the surface of the desk. "But?" she asked quietly.

Treize jumped, the tension flowing out of his body without his conscious will – only to be replaced with another, more delicious sort.

"Forgive me," Liliya continued, "perhaps I didn't make myself clear? The only thing you have to do tonight is what I tell you to. Do you understand... Mr Khushrenada?"

Treize glanced up at the woman, his face a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured, almost automatically. Years though it had been since Valadin had addressed him the way a cadet was addressed, his reaction to it was still reflexive.

That she would invoke it told Treize exactly what the state of play was going to be for the rest of the night, and, with a silent sigh, he gave himself up to it. Not, it seemed, that he had much choice.

Valadin smiled slowly. "Good boy. Do come here."

Raising an eyebrow speculatively, Treize forced himself to abandon all thoughts of Zechs – Liliya was probably right, he would be fine on his own – and made his way across his sitting room in four long strides. As he came close to the Major, he reached out as though to catch her in his arms to kiss her, and was stopped by the cane flicking up to point at his throat, held as one would hold a foil – point levelled for perfect, fatal entry into the windpipe.

"Did I say you could do that?" Liliya asked softly. "Strip for me."

Given how little he was wearing, Treize doubted that was going to take him more than a moment or two, and Liliya had certainly seen him naked before. Unaccountably, though, as he dropped his trousers to the floor at his side, he could feel himself blushing under her scrutiny.

It was a feeling Liliya compounded a second later as she began to walk in a slow circle around him, her eyes scanning his body appraisingly.

Having completed one circuit, she came to a halt directly behind him, just out of sight of his peripheral vision. Suddenly certain that he needed to know what she was doing, Treize began to turn his head to look at her.

"Eyes forward, Mr Khushrenada."

Reflex commanding again, Treize snapped himself almost to attention, pondering the fact that this was the oddest parade ground he'd ever stood on.

"I'm afraid I'm rather disappointed with you, darling. Tonight was meant to be something quite special between us, but you've already made three unforgivable mistakes."

Treize started as something touched the back of his ankle and began to trace a slow path up his calf, shivering as he realised that it was the tip of the switch.

"To begin with, you answered the door," Liliya continued. "Then, when it became clear that it wasn't an emergency, you failed to dismiss that annoying whelp Marquise immediately. Finally, you had the presumption to argue with me when I told you to leave him be."

She let her words hang in the stillness of the room for a moment, giving Treize just long enough to get past his resentment of her description of Zechs, and to begin feeling rather alarmed.

"Disobeying a senior officer is a serious offence, Mr Khushrenada, and one that should be swiftly and summarily punished. Don't you agree?"

"…Yes, ma'am…"

"Your pardon? I didn't quite catch that."

"Yes, ma'am," Treize repeated, forcing his voice to be steady. Familiar as he was with the tricks she was using, they were still effective.

"So glad you agree," Liliya purred. "Hands on the desk, please, and lean forward."

Treize's head whipped round as he looked at her in disbelief. She wasn't seriously suggesting what he thought she was… was she? "Lils…" he started.

Her hand left his skin smarting as she slapped his rear. "Mind your manners, boy! Hands on the desk… and I won't ask you again."

The implied threat was clear – the more he disobeyed her commands, the rougher his 'punishment' was going to be. Muscles tensing with the strain on his nerves, Treize set his hands in the middle of the polished wooden surface of his desk, and forced himself to lean forward.

It was a position he had never been in before. Though permitted, corporal punishment was very rarely used by the Academy faculty, and Treize, in his time as a cadet, had never broken the rules and regulations severely enough to warrant it.

The cane hissed as it sliced the air, the sound Treize's only warning before it lashed across his skin, lancing sharp, stinging pain over the fading marks of Liliya's slap.

The instructor jumped, breaking the position she'd put him in.

"I didn't tell you to move," Liliya murmured. "Hands on the desk, and don't move again!"

Biting his lip, Treize put himself back where he had begun and braced himself for the next lash.

Though it had been only few seconds since the first, when the switch dealt him the second blow the pain caught him completely off guard. His teeth set deeper into his lip – whatever else she got out of this, there was no way Liliya was going to hear him cry out.

The third stroke fell higher up than the first two had, catching the thinner skin across the back of his hips, and the fourth was laid almost directly on top of the first, deepening the ebbing pain beyond anything so far.

Liliya paused after the fourth strike with the cane, the hesitation serving the dual purpose of keeping her blows from becoming a steady, predictable rhythm too soon and allowing her to assess her partner closely, scrutinising him for the signs that he couldn't do this with her. Though pain was an integral part of her plans for the rest of the night, scarring Treize, in any sense of the word, was not. Fairly sure as she was that the other officer would enjoy their game, it was possible that she was wrong about him – and if she was, she needed to know.

Really, though, Marquise's interruption had proved rather favourable. Liliya had started the evening intending nothing more than casual, commonplace sex – albeit on her terms.

Coming to the conclusion that Treize was alright for the moment, the Major raised her switch again and brought it down on his skin twice more in quick succession. Reddened welts had begun to form under her blows, a pretty contrast to Treize's natural alabaster paleness, and with her seventh lash, he was forced to catch a whimper in the back of his throat.

Valadin smiled slowly as Treize began to sweat.

Aiming carefully, she put the eighth mark so that his skin was reddening evenly.

Treize felt the shock of the repeated strikes breaking his recently sworn vow not to let her hear him make a sound. To his horror, by the time she had hit him half a dozen times he was whimpering, and by the even dozenth he couldn't stop the low moan that broke from him.

There was a pause between that twelfth blow and the next, but it served only to give him time to tense in anticipation and to discover how the pain had made his body react.

Liliya brought her switch down and he cried out sharply.

There was a momentary stillness, and then slender fingers set the pale wooden cane down on the polished surface beside his right hand.

"You may move now," Liliya told him quietly.

Treize pushed away from his desk and took a couple of unsteady steps backwards, unconsciously reaching a hand behind him to touch the abused area, wondering if the Major had drawn blood or if it just felt like she had.

"I wouldn't do that," she told him, catching his fingers in hers before they could make contact. "You aren't bleeding, I promise. I know what I'm doing."

Treize repressed the smirk that wanted to form. "Of that, I have no doubt. Am I forgiven for my transgressions?"

Liliya smiled up at him slowly. "Forgiven? Yes. But you do still owe me, if you recall?"

"Oh, sweet God!" Treize muttered, and Valadin couldn't prevent the delighted laugh that bubbled up.

"Poor Treize. Am I mean to you?" she asked.

"Frequently, but I suspect that I like it."

"You certainly seemed to have liked something this evening!"

Treize followed the direction of her grey eyes, glancing down at himself and then back up with a smile that showed just the faintest trace of embarrassment. "I learn something new about myself everyday, it appears."

"It appears so."

Valadin slipped her slender form past his, turned one hundred and eighty degrees and hopped up onto the desk to sit on the edge of it, swinging her feet casually. "Come over here," she instructed.

"Any particular reason why?" Treize asked even as he obeyed.

"Of course. Your debt, darling." She tilted her head. "On your knees, then."

The younger officer sank elegantly to his knees in front of the Major and waited, head bowed, for her next order. If it amused her to play such games with him, then it didn't cost him much to go along with them… though he suspected he might be revising that opinion in the morning.

Liliya looked down at him approvingly for a minute or two and then undid the sash of her black satin robe and allowed the material to slide away from her body to pool on the surface of the table underneath her. "Do you need me to tell you what I want?" she quizzed, and Treize shook his head.

"Not anymore."

Though Liliya, with her eyes still closed, couldn't see him, Treize glanced up at her face, running his eyes the length of her half-prone body, and smiled at her affectionately. Whatever Zechs was undoubtedly thinking about Treize's reasons for being with the Russian, the Instructor questioned whether the boy would come up with the truth.

There had been chemistry between him and this dangerous, delightful woman almost from the moment Treize had been old enough to notice such things. He'd suffered through almost a full term of trying not to blush and react when she spoke to him, praying for the moment when what he saw as a school-boy crush would pass.

Just after his final Christmas holiday, less than a month after his fifteenth birthday, she'd called him to her office one evening, begun a conversation about some topic she'd been covering in her classes and, seemingly completely by chance, had leaned over almost mid-word and kissed him.

He grinned to himself now as he remembered how shocked he'd been. Embarrassed and aroused beyond anything he'd known previously, he had leapt to his feet, stumbling and stuttering apologies as he made for her door, intending to run.

She hadn't let him go. With a few pointed questions, she'd established that he was interested in her, that he was old enough to be entertaining, and willing to be, and that he understood that, for both their sakes, they could never talk about what happened between them outside of her rooms.

In many ways, Liliya had been a perfect first lover. The imperious, mercurial streak he saw so much of now had been nowhere in evidence for their first few nights together. She'd been careful and gentle with him, patient and understanding when youth and inexperience made him clumsy and over-eager, and had spent hours of her time teaching him all sorts of tricks and techniques to please any woman – including the one she was asking him for at the moment.

Time and increasing maturity on Treize's part had allowed the two of them to morph his first brush with youthful lust into a genuine, deep-running friendship, but the chemistry, the spark of attraction, between them had never faded. On his return to the Academy as an Instructor, Treize had been the one to approach Liliya.

It had been to her he'd turned when Leia had shown up expecting Mariemeia, and her to whom he turned to deal with the day-to-day stress of his job, just as she did him.

Treize loved Leia, knew he did and knew he had almost from the second he'd met her, but they were incompatible in many ways. Zechs might think that Treize was risking his marriage by cheating on his wife, but the Instructor had the suspicion that his extra-marital activities were what allowed him to behave to Leia as she needed him to.

"Treize, darling, are you just going to sit there?"

Treize snapped out of his reverie. "My apologies, Lilishka. Of course not."

He was close enough to her that he could feel her shiver as his breath blew warm and pleasing across the intimate places of her body. The knowledge that he could make her jump like that satisfying him in some way, he petted her until she gave the soft, high-pitched little moan he'd been waiting for. "Having fun, dear?" he asked.

"Yes… I…" she murmured, and he chuckled low in his throat.

Slowly Liliya's whimpers gave way to out right moaning and the occasional whispered Russian curse.

She had an inventive imagination –Treize couldn't keep from laughing, lifting his head to draw enough air. "Oh, dear, Lils!" he quipped. "Didn't your mother tell you ladies shouldn't swear?"

Grey eyes opened as she glared at him. Treize pulled back a little further to look up at her. "You know, if it was you down here, you'd be blackmailing me into all sorts of things before you'd finish this…"

Liliya smirked. "The trouble with that, Treize darling, is that I'm not down there." Her right hand lifted from the desk, found the back of his head and shoved.

Treize spluttered, trying not to laugh.

"Good boy. Do your job and I _might_ let you have your fun."

The response was a rather muffled, "Yes, Ma'am." before Treize turned his attention back to pleasing Liliya. The older officer closed her eyes again, dropping her head back as her hand pressed him into her.

Knowing from the tension in the muscles under his hands that she was nearing her climax, Treize settled quickly to a firm, steady rhythm, feeling her long fingernails bite his scalp through his hair.

"Oh! Treize, darling! _Bozhe moi_!"

Though he'd never tell Liliya – it would rob her of half her fun in asking him to do it for her – this type of sex play, something the two of them often indulged in, was more intimate and fulfilling to him than true intercourse was. There was a wonderful sense of accomplishment he gained through watching the woman he was with take her own pleasure from him so unashamedly. An enjoyment and an arousal that he'd never felt with his wife.

Sudden awareness flowed into him of just how keyed up he was feeling, and his arms tightened around Liliya's soft skinned figure. Treize had been subjected to the Major's idea of a slow burn since she'd passed him her underwear in the theatre. That had been hours ago now, and it had abruptly reached the point where he couldn't stand it any more without doing something about it.

Coming up off his knees in one quick movement, he caught Liliya's chin in his hand and leaned in to kiss her. One polished fingernail was placed against his lips as the older officer sat up, shook her head and slid off the desk so she was standing in front of him.

"Now, Treize, darling, a little patience."

Treize closed his eyes, cringing. Really, how much more could she expect him to take?

Valadin caught his expression and raised an eyebrow, hiding the sympathy for him she felt beneath a cool smile. "You should know better than to make presumptions about me, darling. Did I say I was done with you?"

"…No, but…" He shivered visibly.

"Well, then."

Noting that he still had his eyes closed, Liliya moved on silent feet to stand with her back to him in front of his desk, and positioned herself much as he had earlier for his caning.

"Lilishka… for God's sake… please!"

She swept her hair over one shoulder and looked back at him, the expression in her eyes impish. "Oh, darling…" she sighed disapprovingly. "If you must…"

Sapphire eyes flickered open, and then Treize smirked at her as he took in how she was standing. "Teasing bitch," he accused, and she wondered just how exactly how he meant it.

She found out quickly enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Five**

_Mid-June AC 192_

_Khushrenada Ancestral Estate - Moscow_

---

Treize crossed from the brightly lit, airy space of the morning room into the shadows of the corridor in time to hear the bathroom door slam shut behind his younger friend.

Sighing quietly to himself, Treize slowed his pace to a crawl and gave Zechs a few minutes to himself before tapping on the door lightly out of courtesy, and pushing it open. He was in time to see Zechs stagger to his feet and hit the flush button on the toilet.

"Feeling better?" Treize asked, leaning on the doorframe.

The younger pilot shook his head wearily. "Not really." He bent over the sink, splashing cold water into his mouth and onto his face. "The worst of it is, I think I'm still drunk as well as being hung-over."

Treize moved into the room, handing the younger man the towel hanging neatly on the heater. "Just how much of this 'something green' did you drink?" he asked sympathetically.

Zechs grimaced. "I don't think it's as much the quantity of it – though that wasn't exactly lacking – as what was in it. We were drinking Absinthe cocktails – Valhalla's and Knock Out's – Otto's idea. I should have known better than to let him talk me into anything. It never ends well."

Treize snorted in amusement, then shook his head resignedly, folding his arms as he forced down his feeling of disapproval. It wouldn't do any good if he expressed it, and would probably cause a row that he didn't want to have and that the younger man wasn't up to. "Christ, Zechs," he murmured. "You're lucky you're this functional. I've heard of Knock Out's, but what the hell is a Valhalla?

Zechs grimaced ruefully. "Knock Out's are absinthe, vermouth and gin, right?" Treize nodded. "Valhalla's are absinthe, blackcurrant vodka and triple sec."

The older man stared and then smiled weakly. "Well, it's no wonder you're sick. You deserve to be. Have you taken anything for the headache?"

"I had, till I threw it back just now. I'll take another dose in a while." Zechs glanced in the mirror and scowled. It was no exaggeration to say he looked as bad as he felt. "To be honest," he murmured after a moment, knowing Treize was going to scream at him but possessed by the curious urge to confess, "Absinthe never gives me a headache. Unless someone spiked my drink, I think the headache was probably caused more by the Liquid Gold than the alcohol."

He glanced up from his reflection in time to see the older man stare at him for a second, glare silently and then throw his hand up in disgust, turn on his heel and walk out.

---

_Mid-October AC 190 Lake Victoria Military Academy_

---

The state Zechs was in when he answered the door to his Instructor and friend an hour or two before noon the next day took Treize so much by surprise that he couldn't, for a second, quite find the words to ask what had happened.

"Zechs?" Treize demanded as the cadet stepped back from the door to let the older man into his dimly lit room. "Are you feeling well?" His eyes swept the room, taking in the crumpled clothes in a heap on the floor – the remains of Zechs's uniform from the night before, it appeared – and the equally rumpled bedclothes. It was clear that he had roused the boy from some sort of lie-in, and that Zechs had most likely fallen into bed in a less than relaxed state in the first place, but why the cadet would feel the need for either course of action was beyond the teacher.

Whilst Treize was pondering, Zechs had crossed his room, sat down on his bed and picked up the half-full glass of water that had been sitting on the night stand. Now, he set the empty glass down and looked up at the older man with red-rimmed eyes. "I'm fine. What did you want?"

Treize blinked. "We were to go shopping…" he prompted. "Had you forgotten?"

Zechs shook his head, then winced. "No, I hadn't. I just assumed that, given everything, your offer didn't apply anymore. I can't imagine you want to go shopping for Christmas presents for your wife twelve hours after fucking another woman."

Treize recoiled, his body stiffening as he reached behind him, flicked on the light and glared at his student. "Excuse me?"

Zechs shrugged, looking at the floor "I'm sorry if I'm wrong," he replied, but his tone of voice made it perfectly clear that he wasn't anything of the sort. "But I'm starting to think I don't know you at all."

Treize crossed the small cadet room in three long paces and caught the boy's chin in his hand, forcing the trainee's head back until they were looking directly at one another. "You presume a great deal, Zechs."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "If I had been inclined to break our arrangement for today, it wouldn't have because of my behaviour, but because of yours. You were unforgivably rude to both myself and Major Valadin last night."

"I know."

"If you know, why did you do it?"

The cadet shrugged, glancing away. "She shouldn't have been there, Treize. You're married, you have a daughter… you have no right to be sleeping with other women. What would Leia feel if she knew? Have you thought about that?"

"Of course I've thought about it!" Treize snapped, aware that Zechs was hitting on some points the Instructor resolutely refused to dwell on even in his own mind. What was with the sudden morality lecture anyway? "How is that anything to do with you?" he demanded.

"Because it is! It's Christmas in two months, and now I have to face Leia, watch her glow around you because she loves you and thinks you love her, and know it's all a lie. How can you ask me to do that, and then tell me it's none of my business?!" Zechs stopped abruptly, and his eyes dropped back to his lap. "Unless… unless you don't want me to come home with you for Christmas...?" he asked quietly.

Treize flinched away, dropping his hand from the cadet's chin as he did so. He didn't know whether he should be feeling angry still, or guilty for the pain in Zechs's voice, and the resulting mix-up of the two was decidedly unpleasant. "Of course I want you to come with me for Christmas," he insisted. "It's your home, Zechs, where else would you go?"

Zechs shrugged again. "I don't know. I could stay here."

"Don't be silly." Treize sat down on the bed at his friend's side. "Look, you're family to me, you know you are. I want and expect you to treat me as yours and to regard my home as yours too. I realise that I'm putting you in a very difficult position after last night, but you have to realise that what goes on behind my bedroom door is none of your concern. And neither is who else might be there."

The boy nodded, but seemed to shrink into himself, as though something Treize had said had wounded him. "I know… I'm sorry… I just… I don't understand. I thought you loved Leia?"

The old-fashioned part of Treize, the part of him that had been raised as noblemen of his family had been raised for centuries, wanted to tell the boy that it was none of his business, but the fairer part knew he had no right. Not so long since he had asked Zechs much the same question and expected an answer, and there were other concerns besides that.

"I… do," Treize admitted. "As much as it matters. It's not as simple as that."

"Why?"

The Instructor shifted his weight, feeling the sting of damaged skin and the pull of abused muscles wash through him with the movement, a bittersweet echo of what he and Liliya had shared the night before, and wondered how to explain it to Zechs so that he would understand without sharing detail so intimate that Treize couldn't even countenance it.

He sighed softly. "Zechs… forgive me, but I don't… Are you even old enough to understand the answer?" he asked in exasperation.

A moment later, Treize had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing out loud as his friend turned a brilliant scarlet hue.

"Treize!" Zechs gasped, eyes wide.

"Oh, what?" the Instructor teased, still smothering his amusement, though he was smiling now.

"You can't ask me that!"

"Why on Earth not? It's a perfectly reasonable question."

"Yes, but…!" Zechs spluttered. "We don't talk about… things like that!"

"Sex?" Treize gave up and laughed aloud. "Of course we do. We have, on several occasions and you were managing well enough a moment ago."

"That was different," the boy stated firmly.

"Was it now?" Treize took in his friend's mortified expression, chuckling, and then shook his head as he calmed himself. "In all seriousness – I don't think I can explain unless you have some personal grasp of the issue." He paused for a breath. "The last time we spoke about sex you were barely old enough for it to be more than theoretical. I'm assuming things have moved on from that but I don't know how far."

Zechs's fading blush returned full force for a heartbeat, and then, to Treize's surprise, the younger man turned quite pale and looked away, radiating waves of discomfort. "I'll understand you well enough," he murmured. "Explain away."

Treize looked at him for a few long seconds, wondering if he wouldn't be better off pursuing whatever was putting the current expression in Zechs's eyes, and then he sighed and rubbed one hand across his face. "I can try…" He took a deep breath. "Look, what I do with Major Valadin and what happens with Leia are completely different things. Leia is my wife, the mother of my daughter and, hopefully, my future children – she deserves and receives a certain consideration from me in all things. She was raised to expect it. I can't simply… she's not…" The instructor trailed to a halt, and swallowed. "As for the Major, well… you must have realised that last night wasn't the first time for us? We've had an understanding for years now. It's… convenience, really. Nothing more." Treize cringed at how cold that made things sound – it did nothing to describe the abiding friendship he had with Liliya – and shot a rueful glance at the cadet. "I'm sorry, I know that's not very helpful, but I really don't think I can explain any better."

To Treize's surprise, Zechs nodded slowly. "Major Valadin is your mistress," he murmured, knowing he understood far more than Treize thought he did. Although Treize had implied that the Russian woman was necessary only because he was away from home a lot, Zechs was willing to bet that the difference the older man admitted to in what he did with the two women was far greater than Treize was willing to confess. The teacher was moving with a stiffness this morning that implied there had been far more violence to his encounter with Valadin than he would ever dream of bringing to his marriage bed, bound as he was by the manners and expectations of his class into being something that he probably wasn't.

Zechs wondered, suddenly, if Treize himself understood just exactly why he needed Valadin… and, if he did, which of the two ways of lovemaking he truly preferred. It was a question Zechs could never ask, but at that moment – as sudden realisation dawned on him and he felt nausea come with it – he would have given a great deal for the answer.

Treize chose that second to get over his stunned silence. "I… yes, I suppose she is," he admitted softly. "It's as good a way of describing it as anything else." He turned to his friend with a warm smile, and felt it fade into nothing as Zechs jumped to his feet without meeting his teacher's eyes.

"I'll go and get dressed…" the cadet offered weakly as he all but ran for his bathroom, tension singing in every line of his body.

Treize half turned where he was sitting in time to see the door shut, and to hear the shower start running a few seconds after.

It was only when he heard the unmistakeable sound of glass shattering that he recalled how upset Zechs had seemed the night before, and that Treize had still to ask what had been the cause.

Zechs watched the glass that he and Otto usually kept their toothbrushes in hit the far wall and smash with a feeling of relief. Silly and juvenile of him though it had been to throw the thing, it had, somehow, made him feel considerably better.

Knowing he had a minute or two, at most, before Treize began to wonder whether he'd hurt himself, Zechs sat down on the closed toilet lid, took a deep, steadying breath and forced his clenched muscles to relax as he made himself accept this newest bit of self-knowledge.

He had no idea when he'd fallen for his instructor – but he had. No idea at all when his feelings of friendship and affection had warped themselves into love. There was no single moment he could pin down as the cause, only the awareness of how much more he'd relished every casual touch from the man recently, how every second in his company had been so treasured. And how insanely jealous he'd become of sharing either of those things with anyone else.

Treize had been right – Zechs's reaction to Valadin was more than concern for his friend's wife. Zechs wouldn't – right at that moment – have cared if Leia Barton Khushrenada had dropped from the face of existence never to be seen again.

Zechs closed his eyes, knowing he couldn't afford to deal with this right now, and ruthlessly suppressed the whole subject, burying it deep under his conscious mind as he had learned to do with all the things about his life that threatened to drive him the short distance over the final edge of his sanity.

Forcibly calm, outside and in, he stood up, used the towel hanging from the rail by the sink to dry himself, and deliberately – delaying the inevitable fall out of his actions until later that night, when he would be alone – doubled the morning dose of the pills he'd been taking twice a day since the fall of the Sanc Kingdom.

Treize was all but ready to break the door down to be sure Zechs hadn't hurt himself when the younger man emerged from the bathroom looking neat and composed, if somewhat damp. "What broke?" he demanded, running his eyes over the boy's slender, towel-wrapped body, looking for cuts.

"I dropped a glass into the sink when I was getting my toothbrush," Zechs explained, smiling at his own stupidity. "It smashed. I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Of course." Zechs skimmed into his clothes – t-shirt and light trousers to match Treize's own – with blinding speed and flicked a comb through his lengthening hair, rubbing with the discarded towel to get the water out of the ends.

Crossing the small room, he scooped his uniform off the floor, dumped it into the laundry box with the towel and came to stand in front of his friend. "Move, will you?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Treize got to his feet by reflex, and watched as Zechs leaned past him to straighten the bed before sliding his feet into his shoes and picking his watch, keys and wallet up off the dressing table.

"Ready?" Zechs asked, and opened the door to let Treize head out into the corridor in front of him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Six**

Mid-October AC-190 

_Kampala City – Uganda_

Zechs had fallen in love with Kampala City the very first time he had set foot in it – years ago, when he had been a gangly pre-teen visiting Cadet Treize with the older boy's parents.

Much to the amusement and exasperation of the elder Khushrenada's, ten-year-old Zechs had barely been able to sit still on the flight into Entebbe Airport from Paris, and had bounced up and down almost constantly on the forty minute drive from the Airport into Kampala City, caught between spiralling excitement and growing anxiousness. Until that year – his last as a cadet – Treize hadn't been allowed to have visitors whilst he was at the Academy – couldn't have gotten either the time or the permission to come and meet them in the City even if he had been – and Zechs had never seen this part of the world, where his friend had spent so much of the last two years.

It had been less than two months since Treize had been home for the summer, but for a moment Zechs hadn't recognised the slender young man who stood up to greet their party as they entered the blessedly air-conditioned lobby of the hotel they were staying in. The immaculately turned out young officer had looked so removed from the teenage boy Zechs was used to that he'd wondered – until Lady Khushrenada exclaimed her son's name in delight – if Treize hadn't been able to make it, and had sent someone with a message.

Treize had returned his mother's embrace with polite enthusiasm – he was taller then her now, Zechs noted absently – and shook his father's hand with practiced ease, murmuring in French and Russian respectively as they bombarded him with questions.

Zechs had hung back, uncertain, until the older boy had turned to face him, tilted his head to one side and smiled warmly.

"Zechs? Aren't you going to come and say hello?"

Treize's voice had changed in the seven weeks they'd been apart, breaking from a lilting treble to a honey-smooth tenor. It was nice… but even the way Treize said Zechs's name didn't sound the same.

Zechs hadn't been able to make himself move – his mind had been racing with the effort of cataloguing the changes in his friend and making himself adjust to them.

The cadet had seemed to sense that there was something wrong, and had closed the distance between himself and the younger boy, his boot heels clicking on the marble floor until he was standing in front of Zechs and looking down at him. "Zechs?"

Treize had waited a beat and then gone to one knee. "Do I look that different like this? It's only my uniform."

Over Treize's shoulder, Zechs had been able to see the elder Khushrenada's exchanging worried glances, perhaps wondering if they shouldn't interfere.

"You don't sound like you," Zechs had murmured stupidly.

To his surprise, the faintest of colour had touched the cadet's face as he smiled again. "I know. Odd, isn't it? I'm not used to it myself yet, but at least I don't have to put up with what some of my classmates do. Their voices won't settle – they keep squeaking!"

The thought had tickled Zechs, and he'd laughed out loud. Treize had chuckled with him, and then reached out and drawn the younger boy into his arms, holding him firmly. "Hello, Zechs," he'd repeated.

"Hello, Treize. I missed you…"

"I should hope so! But you're here now, and I've got lots of things to show you. I even got permission from the Academy Commander to bring you onto the base and show you round. Just you, mind." He waved a hand to indicate his parents. "We'll have to send them shopping or something."

Five years later, Zechs glanced up at the man that cadet had grown into and smiled to himself. That whirlwind tour of the Specials Academy was one of his fondest memories, and had been the final thing needed to crystallise his decision to follow his friend into the military.

"Come on, Zechs! Marie – with her mother's help, of course – has written 'Santa Clause' a list as long as my arm. I have no idea what most of it is, but I fear for my life if I don't find it all. And then I have to find presents for Leia, and I haven't the faintest idea what to get her."

Zechs shook his head. "Treize, you're hopeless! She's been dropping hints every time you've spoken to her for the past three months, just like she did for her birthday."

"I know that! But I can never figure out what it is she's hinting at! Why do you think I brought you?"

"My delightful company and witty repartee?" Zechs asked archly.

Treize snorted. "Not hardly, brat. You're here because I'm utilising all the resources at my command, like a good officer. Is it my fault you think like a girl?"

"Hey!"

Treize chuckled. "What? You do always seem to know what Leia's thinking. It's useful – especially since I was expecting the two of you to hate one another on sight."

Zechs resisted the urge to stick his tongue out – or make some other, even less polite gesture – and settled for whacking his teacher on the arm. "Shows what you know, oh great tactical genius! You need a jeweller's, to start with."

"Do I?"

"Yes. Leia wants new earrings to go with the necklace you got her for her birthday. She's been wearing the thing for the last three calls she's made and she's mentioned twice now that she lost one of the original pair. If you've got any sense, you'll get her the bracelet too."

The older man stopped walking and stared. "How do you _do_ that?" he asked, frustrated. "Any other woman and I can read them like a book. Not Leia."

"Of course not – you're married to her. You have to think beyond flowers and chocolates, and she's immune to your charm through over-exposure."

"Fine! Jeweller's it is."

Zechs sniggered, and chased after the older man.

...aaaaaaaa...

Sipping steaming coffee slowly, Treize stared at his student over the rim of the cup as the boy tipped salt into his soup and began to stir it in with methodical strokes.

Several hours spent in the sprawling city centre had left Treize with a considerably shorter shopping list than he had started with. Leia's gifts, mostly small, though expensive things were tucked about Treize's person in various pockets, or in the single bag Zechs was carrying. Mariemeia's toys and things would be shipped straight to Moscow for Leia and the house servants to deal with.

Invaluable as Zechs's help was proving, Treize was questioning the wisdom of bringing him. Familiar with Zechs's moods over almost a decade now, Treize was sensitive to the slightest deviation from what could be considered a normal pattern – and the cadet's behaviour was so wide of the mark Treize had expected that all sorts of alarm bells were ringing for the teacher. Given the distressed boy who had knocked on his door last night – and Treize still didn't know what had prompted that – and the stroppy, sullen teenager who had greeted him this morning, there was no way Zechs should be this easy to get on with at the moment.

It was almost as though, in his ten minutes in the bathroom, Zechs had chosen to switch off from everything that was bothering him, deciding instead to be happy and sociable. Treize would have believed that was the case – he did it himself often enough – had Zechs's façade not seemed a shade too hollow. He laughed, joked, mocked and teased as he often did, but it seemed empty, brittle and fake.

The older man didn't believe for one second that Zechs had dropped the glass he claimed to have this morning. He strongly suspected, in fact, that the boy had simply thrown it at something, but it was whatever else he'd done that was of interest.

Treize restrained his sigh and felt guilt bite at him again. He'd treated the younger man badly over the last few hours and he knew it – knew, too, better than to think that there wouldn't be some further fall out from Zechs's discovery of Treize's ongoing affair with Liliya.

Though it was never mentioned out loud, both men were aware of the fact that the events of Zechs's childhood had wrought subtle, but permanent, damage into the cadet's mind. Zechs had simply been too young to deal with what he had experienced in the brutal destruction of his home, family and kingdom. His psyche had shattered under the strain, and only months and months of treatment by some of the best specialists Treize's parents had been able to access had granted any sort of reformation.

The person who reformed was almost certainly not who and what Zechs had been intended to be. The resultant personality had been unpredictably brilliant, and just as unpredictably unbalanced. Careful, personally tailored medication steadied brain chemistry, reined in the worst of the emotional disturbance, but Zechs was still a remarkably easy person to upset. The doctors swore that one day the boy would be old enough and distant enough from what had happened to him to be able to finally cope with it, but until then…

Perhaps because he had never been able to find it in himself, Zechs was utterly reliant on his environment to provide stability for him. For the first half dozen years, that had been provided by Treize's doting parents, and by Treize himself, and then Zechs had joined the Specials.

It was, in the Instructors opinion, the best thing Zechs could have done for himself. Military life, especially as a cadet, was ruthlessly regimented, and Treize, in his capacity as Zechs's teacher, had made a point of harnessing the boy's raw talent and astounding ability to the point were Zechs was almost certain to graduate top of his class. Two and a half years of such a strict lifestyle had allowed Zechs to begin to gain a little distance and the change had been remarkable. Treize had begun to hope that Zechs was making the full recovery the Doctors had promised.

The last few weeks had shown something of a backwards slide in that regard, culminating in the events of the night before when one shock after another had left Zechs more than a little raw around the edges.

It occurred to Treize suddenly, as he watched Zechs sip at his soup, that those same few weeks had made Treize aware of some things he hadn't known about before, and that there were things he needed to have out with the boy before some seriously nasty ideas could take root in that fragile psyche.

"Zechs…" Treize began, questioning the sense of beginning this particular conversation in so public a place, but knowing that he probably wouldn't get a better chance until Christmas.

"Hmm?"

Start with the simple things. "I'm not going to leave Leia, you know," Treize murmured. "I've never even thought of it. Nothing is going to change."

Treize watched as Zechs blanched suddenly, though to his credit, the trainee's voice was completely level. "That's… good," Zechs replied.

"I'm glad you think so. Are you up to answering a couple of questions for me?"

The look Zechs shot Treize was so wary that older man almost flinched. "That depends," the cadet replied, "on what they are."

"Fair enough, I suppose."

Treize glanced around the small restaurant, noting that it was almost empty and that they were sat too far away from anybody else to be overheard, or even to really be seen. He set his empty cup down on the table in front of him and folded his hands together on the linen cloth as he looked at the younger man for a few moments.

Zechs began to fidget. "What was it you wanted to ask me?" he prompted.

"A few things. I've been meaning to get you on your own for a while now. To begin with, what would you say if I told you Leia and I are considering having another child?"

Zechs blinked – clearly that hadn't been the question he was expecting. "Uh, that's good, I guess. Are you?" he asked, wondering if the question had been hypothetical only.

"We're considering it, yes. Marie's getting up for eighteen months old and I don't want her to be an only child. Leia mentioned just before we came back that she thinks she could cope with another pregnancy now, so… You wouldn't object?"

"No. Why should I? I don't see what it's got to do with me anyway…"

Treize smiled slightly. "Don't be daft, Zechs. Don't you remember living with Marie for the first few months? You might not want your home invaded by that again."

"No, it's fine. I like Marie." Zechs let a soft smile touch his face as he thought about his Goddaughter – the closest, most likely, that he would ever come to having his own child.

"I know that! How much of my money have you spent on her this afternoon?"

Zechs shrugged unrepentantly. "You didn't stop me. You said 'questions'?" he nudged.

"I did," Treize confirmed. "What did you want to talk to me about last night? You seemed quite distressed."

The smile faded. "Oh, that…" Zechs glanced away and shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. I was just… being silly."

Treize sighed. "Zechs, don't be stubborn. You don't knock on my door at twenty past twelve in the morning without reason. You said something about Noin?"

"No, I didn't. I… Really, Treize, it was nothing."

The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Look at me and say that, then. You can't, and we both know it. Milliardo, whatever it is isn't going to change what I think of you."

"I know that… it's just." Zechs bit his lip and then sighed heavily. "Noin… made a pass at me, I think. Last night, after we got home from the Opera." Quietly, he told his teacher the details of Noin's attempted seduction, though not the reason she'd thrown him out.

Treize sat back a little, pondering. "Oh? Why would that have you at my door in the early hours, looking ready to cry and spoiling for a fight with the first person to offer? I would have thought you'd have been too busy."

Treize frowned as Zechs cringed a little. "I didn't think you'd approve of the idea," Zechs murmured. "Aren't I a tad… young?"

The older man shrugged. "Do you think you are?"

"I… don't know. I've never really thought about it." Zechs shook his head. "It's not relevant, anyway."

"Isn't it?" Treize narrowed his eyes, analysing ruthlessly. "Would she have been your first?" he asked, more for the sake of curiosity than for any real purpose. He suddenly had to know if Liliya had been right in her assessment of Zechs – after all, if she was right in one regard, it was more likely that she was right in others.

Pale blue eyes flicked up to the teachers. "What?"

"You heard me," Treize teased, then sobered when it became clear that Zechs wasn't going to answer, drawing his own conclusions as he continued, "Never mind. You're already older than I was, though, so I can hardly say anything about it one or another."

Treize had to bite back laughter as Zechs dropped his spoon, splashing soup onto the tablecloth as his eyes widened in disbelief and his jaw dropped open.

"What?!" the cadet choked.

"You're already older than I was," Treize repeated patiently. "Only by a couple of months, admittedly, but…" He shrugged. "Oh, what? You didn't seriously think I'd never been to bed with anyone before Leia, did you?" he laughed.

"Quite honestly, till last night, I didn't think you'd been to bed with anyone but Leia, ever!" Zechs snapped back, clearly not fond of the way Treize was laughing at him. "I couldn't think of any other way to explain how you could possibly have been naïve enough to get her pregnant!"

It was Treize's turn to blush. Sudden heat stained his skin as he looked down, his eyes flashing his irritation at the younger man for throwing that one, admittedly major, mistake at him so cheaply. "I was seventeen years old. I was hurt, half in shock, and not thinking clearly. She was a nurse. It never even _occurred_ to me that she wouldn't have thought to protect herself!"

Zechs raised an eyebrow in uncanny imitation of the older man and snorted. "Well, I'd worked that much out for myself," he returned dryly. "Though why you'd assume an unmarried girl from an aristocratic family would be taking a contraceptive is beyond me!" He shook his head. "And I have to say, if you've always left it to the girl to take precautions, then I doubt Mariemeia is your only child."

"She is, believe me."

Zechs picked up his spoon, dipped it into his soup and lifted it to his mouth. "If you say so," he agreed before swallowing.

The patronising tone, coming from someone four years younger than he was, snapped Treize's already tested hold on his temper. "If you'd care to ask Major Valadin whether she's hiding my illegitimate child, be my guest!" he hissed back. "Good luck with that one! But whilst we're on the subject… Did you think of precautions when Noin was throwing herself at you half dressed last night?!"

Zechs froze, suddenly realising how much he'd incensed the older man. "No, but… I never had any intention of touching Noin. I'm not like you… I don't…"

"Don't you dare pretend you didn't fuck Noin because of some moral high ground!" Treize spat, cutting Zechs off before he could finish. "Exactly when were you planning to tell me you're gay, anyway?!"

The spoon dropped from Zechs's hand again, ringing off the porcelain of the soup bowl loudly, but it wasn't remotely funny this time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Seven**

_Mid-October AC-190_

_Kampala City – Uganda_

Zechs stared across the table silently, shock sweeping through him and leaving him cold and numb. "I…." he began, and stopped when he realised he had no idea what to say.

Seated opposite the cadet, Treize seemed to be almost as stunned as Zechs was. As the younger man watched, he closed deep blue eyes and shook his head, something remarkably akin to the self-loathing the boy was feeling twisting Treize's face.

"Zechs, I… Oh, my God!" he gasped. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have… I had no right to…"

Zechs blinked against the sudden unreality of the moment. "No!" he protested. "You're right… I should have told you… I just…" He swallowed hard, hearing the echo of Treize's viciously toned words again. The blessed transitory numbness was beginning to wear off and he could feel himself starting to tremble all over. The edges of the room had begun closing in on him, dimming his vision.

Abruptly absolutely certain that he couldn't stay in such a small space a moment longer without making a terrible spectacle of the both of them, Zechs pushed to his feet and found he had to lean on the table for a second to get his balance. "I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I have to… Excuse me, please!"

Forcing his pace to keep to a brisk walk, and his path not to waver, Zechs made his way around the layout of little tables and out of the front door, into the dying autumn sunlight.

Treize watched, more than a little alarmed, and then gestured imperiously to a hovering waiter, dropped about three times more money than was needed to pay for the aborted meal into his hand, grabbed the shopping bag Zechs had abandoned and went after his friend.

"Zechs?" he called as he stepped out onto the narrow street. "Zechs?!"

Looking around with increasing dread, and cursing himself thoroughly for letting his temper get the better of him, Treize knew that if the younger man had truly bolted – had run and gone to ground with the intention of losing his teacher – he had no hope of finding him. Three days of dodging Alliance troops through the war-torn Sanc capital, Newport City, and its outlying regions before being found by Treize's father had taught the cadet a brutal master-class in urban evasion. Even if he hadn't been the more familiar with the layout of the City – which he was, Treize hadn't spent any real time there since his own cadet days – Zechs would have had no real trouble escaping detection.

"Zechs! For God's sake, where are you?!" Treize demanded, almost sure he wasn't going to get an answer.

"I'm here."

The quiet voice from almost directly behind him frightened Treize out of five years of his life, and he spun about to see Zechs leaning on the wall in a shadowed corner. "Christ, don't do that!" he snapped in relief.

"I'm sorry…" the cadet whispered. "I had to get out… I couldn't…"

"Not that!"

Treize quickly closed the gap between the two of them and stopped, hovering in front of the younger man protectively and assessing the state of him with an analytical gaze. He didn't like what he found. Even from a few steps away, Zechs was visibly shaking and his usually faintly tanned skin currently had less colour than the white stone of the wall he was leaning on.

Zechs slumped back against the wall as Treize closed in on him, gaining as much space as he could. It wasn't enough – he could feel the air in his lungs being robbed away from him and he shut his eyes tightly, running through every mental exercise he knew in an attempt to force the panic attack that was threatening down and away.

Sweat broke across his skin, and he reached out desperately, his hands locking into the soft, thin material of the older man's t-shirt. "Treize…." he pleaded, his voice little more than a whimper. He needed the teacher to move, to give him a clear path out and away rather than blocking him in.

Strong arms caught him and held him. Zechs was suddenly trapped completely as Treize misunderstood what he was asking for but, unaccountably, he began to feel better.

"I'm sorry, Zechs. I'm sorry," Treize whispered. Long fingers pressed Zechs's body into the warmth of the older man's, and ran in soothing strokes through sun bleached blonde hair. The rising tide of mindless panic began to ebb away and the blackness at the edges of Zechs's vision receded, but he couldn't seem to get his breathing under control. He was still gasping for air, and the lack of oxygen was sending him dizzy.

As the pace of Zechs's panting racked up another notch, becoming true hyperventilation, the strange semi-paternal instinct that sometimes came into play around the younger man kicked in for Treize, sweeping away his guilt in the face of a clear need for someone to take command of things.

He tugged at the cadet until the boy followed him to the low stone wall that edged the little street, and pushed him to sit down on it. Crouching in front of Zechs, Treize locked their gazes and began to count quietly, slowly, giving the student the rhythm he needed to get his breathing back under his rule.

It took time, but finally Zechs went limp for a moment, completely exhausted, before he forced himself to sit upright and look at his friend squarely. "I'm really sorry, Treize," he mumbled. "I should never have talked to you like that."

"Don't. I didn't exactly handle that well, either." The instructor shook his head. "Can we just agree to try the whole conversation again some other time?"

Wearily, Zechs nodded. "Still, I…"

"Zechs, stop. I mean it. We can talk it out later." Treize got to his feet, and stood looking down critically for a second or two. "Are you up to finishing our shopping trip," he asked, "or should we head back for the Academy?"

Zechs stood up, ignoring the flash of weakness through his body. "No, I can manage," he agreed.

Treize smiled. "Good."

* * *

_Mid-October AC-190 Lake Victoria Military Academy_

Treize gestured Zechs to a seat on his couch and made his way across his sitting room to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two short, solid looking glasses each holding a fingers' depth of a clear liquid Zechs was willing to bet wasn't water.

"Here. You look like you need it." The instructor folded gracefully into his chair on the far side of his low coffee table, much as he had the last time Zechs had been in these rooms. "I know I do." Treize stared into the drink morosely for a moment and then lifted the glass. "_Na zdorovje_," he muttered, his tone a shade bitter, and tipped his head back, emptying his glass in one go.

Zechs snorted. "Cheers!" he returned, and took a sip of his own drink. As he'd suspected, Treize had poured them both shots of the vodka he regularly had Leia send him from home. The alcohol was icily cold, the taste clear and harsh. It burned Zechs's gullet as he swallowed, closing his throat for a moment. "You've had this in the freezer again, haven't you?" he asked, setting the glass down on the table.

Treize shrugged. "How else am I supposed to get it cold enough in this heat? Warm vodka is evil." He grinned. "Do you know what Lils would do to me if I gave her warm vodka?"

Zechs blinked. "Lils?" he asked, not quite sure he'd heard right.

"Major Valadin," Treize confirmed with a small smile. "Liliya Ieleva Valadina, to be completely precise. She's from Volgograd."

"Oh." Zechs bit his lip. "I didn't know that."

"I didn't expect that you would, but now you do." He canted Zechs a questioning look. "You still don't get the finer nuances of Russian culture, do you? Sipping a drink offered as a toast is horribly insulting, you know."

"You were taking the piss," Zechs replied, utterly unconcerned. "If I were to obey all the 'finer nuances of Russian culture' I'd have to take to calling you Treize Nikolaievich constantly. Or worse, some butchered pet-name form of Treize. Wouldn't that do wonders for your reputation?!"

Treize let his head rest against the cushions of his chair as he laughed. " 'Sasha', for my middle name actually – Treize doesn't break down well – but you might have a point." He gestured at the vodka. "Drink that anyway. I wasn't joking when I said you look like you need it."

"Are you surprised?" Zechs asked quietly, picking up his glass and knocking the rest of the vodka back much as Treize had. The burn almost made him cough, but the heat it spread through his body was welcome, a temporary antidote to the shakiness his panic attack had left him with.

Treize sighed. "Not really. That conversation really _didn't_ go as I'd hoped it would."

Zechs blushed slightly. "It wasn't exactly your fault, Treize. I was less than helpful."

The teacher shook his head, and got to his feet so he could pace. "Maybe so, but I should have expected you not to be. When all's said and done, you're a fifteen-year-old boy. You have the right to act like it occasionally."

"I could choose my times a little better. I've not been doing a sterling job of it lately, have I?" As he spoke, Zechs dropped his gaze to the floor, and then, acting on sudden impulse, kicked off his shoes and pulled his feet up under him, curling into the support of the couch.

Treize watched him, smiling affectionately at the picture Zechs made as he came and sat on the edge of his coffee table. "Honestly?" he asked. "No. You haven't. Liliya tried to wind me up after Noin's birthday by saying you'd finally hit the obligatory period of adolescent rebellion. Maybe she was right – I don't know." He shrugged. "Even if she was, it's nothing for you to worry about too much. I've yet to receive any complaints from your instructors and your performance indicators are right where they need to be. You might be making a hash of your personal life, but it's nothing we all haven't done at some point or other, and it's nothing that can't be fixed easily enough."

Zechs shook his head. "I don't know about that," he admitted. "Noin and I didn't exactly part on good terms last night. She threw me out. I get the feeling she's not talking to me."

"Quite possibly not – she did come off as rather foolish after all. Give her pride time to recover and then see what happens."

Zechs appeared to fold himself smaller. "I don't think it's that simple. She didn't know… about me… and she seemed to think I hadn't told her just so she would try what she did and make a fool of herself. She said something about Otto and me laughing at her whilst we came up with this as some sort of secret plot!"

Treize raised an eyebrow, pondering. "Really? Well, I'm aware of Mr Maxillian's preferences – he makes no secret of them – so I imagine Noin is too. You, on the other hand, have so far done an outstanding job of hiding yours. I had _no_ idea! It doesn't surprise me at all that Noin thought you might be interested in her. Back in September I was half expecting you to come to me and tell me you'd fallen for her. Even when Liliya said she thought you were gay, I didn't believe her, and for just that reason."

Zechs coloured. "Why? I haven't done a thing to make you think that!"

Treize stared at him and then began to laugh. "That's as maybe, Zechs, but there must be some reason why the majority of the faculty has been taking bets for the past year as to when the two of you were going to get together." He paused and shot Zechs a level look. "Myself included. Lils really is about the only one who didn't think Noin had a chance."

"Maybe you should all have listened to her then! She seems to know me better than everyone else does!"

Treize recoiled from the sudden flash of anger. "Zechs…"

"I swear to God, Treize, I haven't done _anything_ to make Noin think I saw her as more than my friend! I've never said anything or …"

The older man shook his head. "So you keep saying, but you _must_ have done something. She's not a stupid girl, or a flighty one. She wouldn't have taken as big a risk as she did last night without something to go on."

Icy blue eyes flashed with heat as Zechs sat up straight. "Will you _stop _saying that?!" he snarled. "I am _not _interested in Noin! I never will be! I can't be!"

Treize held up both hands placatingly. "Yes, Zechs, I know. All I'm saying is that…"

"I know what you're saying! You, like Noin, think I'm stringing her along for some reason!"

The instructor stood up. "Don't shout at me, Zechs, I'm only trying to help you. I didn't say that, and I didn't mean that. All I intended to say was that it's possible that Noin has been taking what you see as innocent actions as something else entirely. You have to admit that you're very affectionate with her, and you do go out of your way to look out for her."

"Yes, because she's my friend!"

"I know!" Treize snapped back, and then blew his breath out in exasperation, rubbing his temples with one hand. "Christ, but you're hard work sometimes. I hope none of my children turn out like you; I don't think I could stand it!" The older man pressed his fingers harder against his forehead, trying to will away the forming headache, then he looked up to see Zechs staring at him, eyes wide with hurt.

A quick mental replay of his last words had Treize cringing internally. "That didn't come out right," he sighed. "I'm doing a lot of that today."

To his surprise, Zechs began to giggle. "Your customary command of the English language does seem to have deserted you. Perhaps we should try Russian?"

Treize gave him an amused look. "There are two problems with that plan, my friend. You wouldn't understand half of what I was saying to you – which, actually, could prove to be an advantage – and you really would make my head hurt with your butchery of my mother tongue."

Zechs shrugged, smirking. "I still know more of yours than you know of mine."

"This is true." Treize waved a hand dismissively. "Do you want another drink? I've yet to ask you why you didn't tell me you were gay. I suspect we're both going to need to be drunk for that."

The cadet froze for a moment and then nodded his agreement. "You know, I really would. Enough of that vodka and I won't remember this in the morning!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Eight**

_Mid-October AC-190 _

_Lake Victoria Military Academy_

Zechs woke from a deep, dead sleep to the sensation of his bed rocking and tilting underneath him and a gentle hand brushing his hair out of his face.

"Hello, sweetie," a quiet voice murmured from somewhere nearby. "Is everything alright?"

Rolling onto his back, and into the source of heat behind him, the blond opened his eyes and looked up into the worried face of his room-mate. "Otto?"

"Hi, gorgeous," the other cadet confirmed with a warm smile.

"What are you doing here? You weren't meant to be coming back until the weekend, were you?"

Removing his hand from Zechs's hair, Otto shrugged dismissively but something flashed across his face. "I caught an earlier flight – thought I'd surprise you, love. Are you okay? It's a little early to be in bed, isn't it?"

Zechs sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, I'm fine," he insisted, giggling a little. "I was just trying to sleep off the vodka Treize has been feeding me all evening." He ducked his head apologetically. "I don't think it's worked though. Sorry!"

"I don't mind. You're cute when you're drunk, hon," Otto replied, then put his head on one side and smiled. "So, what did tall, hot and dashing want with you?"

Zechs shook his head at the other cadet's irreverent description of their teacher. "Just… stuff. What time is it anyway?"

Otto glanced at his wristwatch, then stood up and made his way across the room so he could drop his duffle on his own bunk. "Ten to nine," he murmured, shooting a grin over his shoulder as he unzipped his bag and began to pull folded clothes out of it. "Go back to sleep if you want, love. I'll try to keep it to a dull roar. I'm probably going to go out later anyway."

Zechs shook his head, rubbed his eyes again and swung his feet to the floor by his bed. "I'd rather not. If I go back to sleep now, I'll be awake again at four am. Need a hand unpacking?" he asked, eyeing the size of the bag warily.

Otto chuckled. "If you want to slave for me, be my guest, angel, but don't feel that you have to. It's my own fault that I can't pack for toffee." Rich brown eyes sparkled with amusement. "I am such a cliché sometimes! Typical gay man – more luggage than any woman, just because my shoes absolutely _have_ to match my shirt!"

Zechs snorted and stood up. The alcohol still in his system made him sway in place for a moment, but then he got his balance and moved across the room to pick up the first of the discarded clothes. Folding the spare uniform trousers neatly, he hung them back in the narrow wardrobe to one side of Otto's bunk.

Returning to the pile on the bed, he ruminated on the fact that Otto seemed to have more clothes than any other cadet at the Academy. One of Zechs's earliest memories of the other boy was coming into the room at the start of the first year to hear him bewailing the lack of storage space.

That first impression hadn't left Zechs overly fond of his new roommate. Having pegged Otto as a dizzy, spoiled aristocrat's son – one who had probably only applied to join the Specials in the first place because he thought it would be 'cool' – Zechs had been stunned at the personality switch Otto employed when he was on-duty. In class, in training, in any situation that called for it, the bitching queen persona vanished as though it didn't exist, to be replaced by a consummate, controlled professional.

Having won the soldierly respect of his secretive, blond bunkie, Otto had proved persistent in his attempts to make theirs a proper friendship. He'd even gone so far as to stay up all night once in an attempt to catch Zechs without the shielding glasses he took off only after all the lights had been switched off, and put on again the moment he woke up, before he switched any light on.

Gradually, Zechs had let down some of his wary guard and begun forging a steady connection with the other cadet, just as he was with Noin. By the end of their first year, Zechs had two close friends, and, by extension, a circle of casual acquaintances.

The blond grimaced as he tried to cram yet another shirt into Otto's over-stuffed wardrobe, then gave it up, took it across the room and hung it in his own half-empty closet instead.

Otto looked up to see what he was doing and broke into a beaming grin. "Oh, sweetie! Thank you!"

"I'm tired of getting pulled up on room inspection because you have your clothes hanging off all the door handles," Zechs explained, smiling back. "Besides, if it ends up in my wardrobe, you probably won't notice when I get round to borrowing it some time."

"Is that the reason for your altruism?" Otto cast Zechs a speculative glance, then shook his head. "You're right, love, I probably won't notice. But not that one, eh?" He hunted randomly through the piles still strewn across his bed and shoved a pale blue something at Zechs. "If you have to resort to theft, thieve that one." He gave the taller boy a slow smile. "Goes with your eyes, hon," he purred.

Zechs felt himself blushing, and he turned away so the dark haired cadet wouldn't see.

Between them, they finished sorting through Otto's luggage in silence. Finally Otto picked up the neat bag that held his toiletries and headed for the bathroom. "I'll just put these in the cabinet, and then you can tell me what you've been getting up to in my absence."

Zechs nodded and suddenly remembered the events of the morning. "Otto!" he called, stopping the other cadet before he could get halfway across the dorm.

"What?" Otto asked, looking alarmed.

"You need to be careful in the bathroom. I broke a glass in there this morning, and I might not have got all the shards when I was cleaning it up. I don't want you to cut yourself."

"Oh, right, thanks. I'll watch where I stand then." The dark-haired boy padded into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him.

A few seconds later Zech heard a tap turn on and realised Otto must be washing up after his flight or something. Expecting him to be a while, Zechs picked up his book and sat down in his desk chair to read.

Warm hands on his shoulders pulled him from his engrossment in the novel. "You had a bad day, gorgeous?" Otto asked quietly, his voice thrumming with concern. "That glass 'dropped' an awfully long way across the room, didn't it?"

Zechs sighed – his clean up had been half-hearted and hurried to say the least. He should have known Otto would notice something amiss. "I suppose," he admitted. "Don't worry about it."

"You sure? I can sit and listen as well as the next man, angel, if you need me to."

"No, it's nothing, really." A sudden thought occurred to Zechs and he spun the chair to look up at the other boy. "Listen, did Noin say anything to you before you went home? About something she was planning?"

Otto stared at him for a moment, and then he began to laugh. "She might have. Why, hon?"

"Because she came on to me last night, that's why. And I got the distinct impression that you knew she was going to."

Otto's chocolate eyes widened in surprise. "Oh my God! The silly chit didn't actually go through with it, did she? I wish I could have seen that!"

Zechs glared. "You might have warned me, Otto!"

The bubbling laughter cut off abruptly. "So you could fret about it for the next three months? I really didn't think she had the nerve to try it, especially after I took the piss out of the idea for an hour straight."

"Noin didn't think you were taking the piss – she thought you were seriously telling her to go for it. She cornered me in her room last night, and … well, it wasn't pretty."

Otto grinned. "It wasn't or she wasn't?"

"Stop it!" Zechs snapped. "I'm sure you think it's hilarious, but you weren't there! Noin was really upset, I've never been so embarrassed in my life, and now she thinks the two of us conspired to humiliate her!"

"Whoa, sweetie. Easy. I'm sorry – if I'd known she'd try it on, I'd have told you. I really didn't think she would. Have you spoken to her today?"

"After she threw me out of her rooms last night looking ready to kill me? I thought I'd give her today to calm down a little. Besides… I was with Treize, and…"

"Ah." Otto murmured and made for his bunk, stretching full length on it "Well, I'm sure she'll get over it. She can't stay forever as obsessed with you as she is now, especially now she knows…" he stopped and looked at Zechs. "Uh, I assume she knows you're gay now, love?"

Zechs sighed. "Yes, I told her. And Treize, for that matter."

Otto lifted his head. "Really? When did that happen?"

"Today."

"Wow. You have had a busy day, haven't you? What did he say?"

"That he wishes I'd told him sooner. Quote, 'Did you think I'd hate you for it, or something equally silly?' Unquote."

Otto smiled gently. "There you go, angel. I told you he wouldn't have a problem with it." He flopped back onto his bed for a minute or two, and then rolled to his feet. "Come out with me!"

"What?"

"I was going out anyway, remember? You should come with me. You need to celebrate, and I _so_ need to get laid!" Otto shook his head, making his heavy brown hair wave around him. "You have no idea how much I have to behave myself when I'm at home!"

Zechs scowled. "Otto, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Oh, come on, hon! It'll be fun – and," he added, smiling mysteriously, "I have something new to show you!"

The blond wavered, knowing it would be better for him in the long run if he went back to bed and got a decent night's sleep. Then, rational thought overridden by his tipsy state and his curiosity enticed by the mischievous excitement sparkling in his friend's eyes, he gave in and nodded. "Alright then," he agreed. "But not too late."

* * *

Treize, having spent the couple of hours since seeing Zechs to his dorm in his office working, had decided to check on the younger man before retiring to his own bed for the night.

The stress of the day and the potency of the vodka had combined to hit Zechs hard, leaving him sleepy and vulnerable. Seeing the state the younger man was sliding towards Treize had called a halt to their conversation and walked him home.

Given that Zechs had just about passed out the second his head touched his pillow, Treize had been hoping to find the cadet tucked up in his bed, sleeping soundly. He had not been expecting to find the room deserted.

A perfunctory glance round told him that Otto had probably returned from his holiday early, and he decided the two of them were probably visiting other friends somewhere on the base, or, most likely, apologising to Noin.

He was therefore somewhat surprised when he almost walked into the girl in the lobby of the cadet dorm building.

"Noin?"

Given that he was her Instructor and an Officer, she had no choice but to respond to him, but she did it looking dearly like she'd rather not. "Sir?"

"What are you doing out here on your own at this time?"

"I was… making a comm. call, sir. I know I shouldn't be out of bed, but…"

"Time differences, I presume. It's quite alright. Have you seen Zechs and Otto this evening?"

Violet eyes flashed angrily. "No! And I don't want to!" She remembered too late who she was talking to and clapped a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry, sir!"

"Forgiven, Noin." Treize studied her closely, noting the hollow eyed look of too much crying and the droop to her shoulders. "If I may, Noin… Zechs told me what happened last night. He's very upset about it, too."

"Yes, sir…" she whispered, blushing furiously.

Treize watched her, wondering how much damage Zechs's badly handled rejection had done to the girl's confidence. It didn't take a great deal of intelligence to realise that Noin would be feeling pretty rotten about herself.

He smiled at her gently. "It took courage to approach him as directly as you did," Treize murmured. "And it's not your fault that he couldn't respond to you as you wanted. I promise you, most men would have been all over you like a bad rash after such an invite. I know you probably aren't interested in listening to me make excuses for him, but…" He shrugged. "Zechs has had a lot of trouble with admitting his preferences even to himself. He hadn't told me about them either till this evening, so I hope you'll be able to forgive him for not telling you. It's a difficult thing for him. You know he's an orphan? One of his most precious dreams was that he'd be able to have a family of his own again when he was older – and now that looks unlikely."

The girl's eyes widened, and Treize knew he was getting through to her.

"I hadn't… thought of that," she admitted.

"Well, no one would have expected you to. I get the impression that the only reason Mr Maxillian knew anything more than we did was because he guessed, rather than being told. It's not so unlikely, given that he shares the same persuasion."

"No, I suppose not."

Treize smiled down at her. "I know Zechs handled things badly last night, and I can understand that you're angry with him, but perhaps you'll forgive him someday? Your friendship means a great deal to him, I know… and, well, he's a fifteen-year-old boy. They're universally stupid creatures. I know I was."

He got a weak smile from her, as he'd intended.

"I'll think about it, sir."

"Thank you, Noin." He paused. "Now, if Zechs and Otto aren't with you, then I have to presume they've gone out somewhere. Would you have any idea where?" Seeing her about to refuse him, he smiled and swiftly concocted a half-lie. "I'm rather worried about Zechs… he hasn't been at all well today, and he shouldn't be drinking."

As he had expected, concern for Zechs overwhelmed everything else and she nodded. "If they've gone into Kampala together than they've probably gone to one of the clubs, sir. Uhm, the ones in the…" she trailed off, blushing again

Realising that she was embarrassed about telling him that Zechs and Otto were most likely in one of the cities few gay bars, Treize stopped her with a raised hand, and nodded. "Thank you, Noin. Have a good night."

She snapped off a salute and he stepped past her, heading for the Academy gates.

* * *

_Mid-October AC-190_

_ Kampala City - Uganda_

Though Treize had never had reason to go anywhere near Kampala's gay village and its resident nightclubs and bars, he nonetheless had no trouble in gaining entry to any of the venues as he conducted a door to door search for Zechs and Otto.

It was surprising to him that none of the people he had spoken to had recognised the younger men. Without his uniform and dressed as casually as he was, Treize knew he didn't particularly stand out from the crowds but the same certainly wasn't true of the blond cadet.

The instructor slipped through the darkened lobby of the last nightclub he hadn't searched, a place somewhat arrogantly titled 'Pizzazz!', and paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness and the flare of the lights on the dance floor.

There was no way his hearing was ever going to adjust to the volume of what was passing for music.

Casting a cursory glance at his surroundings, Treize came to the conclusion that this club looked much like every other he had ever been in – chipping, grubby walls, tatty furniture, the reek of cigarette smoke and an ambient temperature hot enough that he was already beginning to sweat.

Scanning the hordes of people for Zechs's distinctive white-gold hair, Treize made his way to the bar, ordering a drink mostly for the purpose of blending in before pushing his way through the crowds again to lean on the railing that overlooked the dance floor.

He'd been there no more than a few minutes when something caught his eye, drawing his attention towards the shadows at the back of the dance floor. He focused on the spot and was rewarded by another flash of strobe lights on ghost pale hair.

Relieved that he had, most likely, found his quarry at last, Treize made his way along the length of the balcony until he could see the dimly lit space more clearly. To his surprise, it seemed to be some sort of sitting area, with half a dozen sofas, a few chairs and a couple of low tables grouped into loose formations out of direct line of sight of the dance floor and the door.

As Treize reached the top of the stairs that would take him down onto the dance floor – so he could make his way to the lounge area – the blond he was assuming was Zechs was pulled, laughing, to his feet by another man with red hair. They turned for the dance floor together and Zechs's identity was confirmed, though Treize didn't have the faintest idea who the other man was.

The instructor spared a moment to wonder about and locate Otto, found him still sitting on one of the chairs, watching the other cadet, and then Treize turned his attention back to Zechs in time to see the stranger pull the blonde's slender body into a loose embrace as the two of them began to move vaguely to the music.

Treize lost sight of the cadets as he hit the bottom of the stairs, his view blocked by the mass of people dancing. It took time to make his way through the crowds without actively shoving people out of his way, and his throat was beginning to hurt from shouting over the noise of the music before he got all the way across the floor to the far side.

Working his way into a breathing space against the wall, he turned his head slowly until he found Zechs again.

Two or three songs had been played in the time it had taken Treize to get across the club and during one of them Zechs seemed to have switched partner. The redhead he had been dancing with was nowhere to be seen – instead the blond had his arms around Otto, holding him in a considerably tighter embrace than he had allowed the stranger.

The two boys were moving to the music with more intent than Zechs had shown with the redhead as well, rocking and shifting and pressing into one another with surprising fluidity. Treize raised an eyebrow – Zechs had absolutely refused to dance at any of the Balls the instructor had taken him to over the years and the older man had assumed it was because the cadet simply couldn't. That, clearly, wasn't the case.

Treize pushed himself off the wall, intending to interrupt the two boys but before he could take more than a step or two back into the crowds, Otto and Zechs stopped their controlled writhe of a dance and kissed each other.


	9. Chapter 9

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Nine**

_Mid-October AC-190 _

_Kampala City - Uganda_

Treize froze in place, staring at his two students in shock.

Not six hours before, he'd been reassuring Zechs that there was nothing wrong with his being gay, operating on the assumption that it was a recent self-discovery for the younger man. Now he was watching the blonde indulge in fairly heavy foreplay with his roommate, and it obviously wasn't for the first time.

This boy – who danced in nightclubs with men he didn't know and kissed well enough that his partner had to pull away for air, panting, as his roommate was having to do – was not the same one as had so shyly confessed his sexuality to Treize, afraid of being rejected. He couldn't be.

And why hadn't Zechs told his teacher what was going on between himself and Otto?

As the older man watched, Otto took a deep breath, fanning himself theatrically as he spoke to Zechs. The blonde laughed at whatever the other boy had said and was rewarded with a wicked smile before Otto reached out and pulled Zechs into another kiss.

Treize felt his feelings roil in him, flashing past so quickly he couldn't name them, as Otto's arms came up to coil around his classmate's neck and Zechs's hands, in turn, traced a slow path down the dark-haired boy's spine until they were resting on his hips. They stayed like that for a few moments, pressed together and shifting slightly.

Treize jumped as someone put a hand on his shoulder and shouted into his ear.

"Khushrenada? What on Earth are you doing here?"

The instructor turned to look at the owner of the voice and came face to face with a fellow member of the Academy's faculty, the young Major who taught Engineering.

"Sir?" Treize asked, surprised.

"I thought it was you! Aren't you straight?"

Treize blinked and fought the blush he could feel threatening. "I… yes, sir."

"What are you doing in here, then? And, for God's sake, quit calling me sir! It's not a good idea in here. My name is Julian."

"Thank you… Julian," Treize responded automatically.

"So?" the other man demanded impatiently, and Treize remembered he'd been asked a question.

"Oh! I was tracking down a couple of cadets."

Green eyes flashed as the older officer grinned. "Little Marquise and his bunkie? I'd been wondering how long it was going to take you to find them in here."

Treize raised an eyebrow. "Do they come in here often?"

"Once a week or so, from what I can gather from the regulars. I've seen them a few times now, occasionally with a group of their friends. I keep an eye on them when I do and try to stay out of their way." He shrugged. "I figure they're as entitled to their fun as the rest of us, as long as they don't get into too much trouble."

"I imagine so, yes. You said something about regulars…?"

"What? Oh, right, you won't know much about this kind of thing." Julian smiled coldly, a hint of the officer he was on-duty. "Any gay scene has its regulars – a group of men, usually, who come into the same clubs night after night. They get to know people, they're always on the look-out for fresh meat, and your protégé, Khushrenada, has been causing quite the stir recently. There are a lot of men in here who would love to get at him."

"Zechs?" Treize spluttered. "Why?!"

"Oh, come on!" Julian began to laugh. "You might be straight, man, but you aren't blind! The kid looks like something out of a wet dream, and that…" he flicked his head in the direction of Zechs and Otto, "… is unbelievably hot!"

Treize took a slow step backwards. "Excuse me?" he asked. "I don't think that's an entirely appropriate sentiment for you to be expressing."

The older officer raised an eyebrow. "It was merely an observation, Captain, nothing more. I'm entitled to acknowledge the obvious."

"Perhaps, yes."

They looked at one another for a moment and then Julian shook his head. "You have nerve, I'll give you that. I wouldn't dream of touching the boy, Khushrenada, he's a _cadet_! I'm not Vlad the Impaler!"

Treize coughed in surprise, flushing guiltily, and the other man began to laugh. "That's right – you were one of her little conquests, weren't you?" Julian flicked another glance at the two cadets. "I'll leave you to keep an eye on them, since you're here. Don't be too hard – it is half term, after all. If you do let them know you're here and you want to do them a favour, tell them to ease up on the poppers before they make themselves sick." He began to walk away, waving just before he vanished back into the crowds of people.

Treize stared after him for a second, then shook his head.

He turned his attention back to the two boys he'd come to find, having to search a little to locate them again. He was in time to see them pull away from each other, both flushed and breathing hard, grinning madly at one another.

Otto leaned into Zechs to say something into his ear, and the blonde shivered.

The older man watched closely as the dark-haired cadet shook his head, and brushed back a lock of mussed blonde hair with gentle fingers. Zechs said something to him, and got a reply and then they both turned to leave the dance floor and headed deep into the shadows of the lounge area.

Treize gave them a moment and then followed them, weaving between the chairs until he came to a closed, black-painted door and then he stopped, puzzled. There were no markings one way or another on the door, as there were on all the other rooms he'd seen intended for patrons of the club to use.

Presuming that the door led to an area intended for employees only, Treize turned round and began to wander the little lounge space, wondering where Zechs and Otto could have gotten too. He hadn't been that far behind them and they hadn't been out of his sight for that long. With ten minutes of thorough searching, he drew the conclusion that they couldn't be amongst the groups of men in the lounge, involved in everything from casual chat to heavy petting, and he let himself sink into a free chair to collect his thoughts and decide on a next course of action.

A few minutes later, the door opened and a sweaty, dishevelled looking Otto came through it. Treize sat up straight as he caught sight of the cadet, and then got to his feet as the boy spotted him and went pale in the bad lighting.

"Oh my God!" Otto spluttered. "Sir!"

"Good evening, Mr Maxillian." Treize closed the gap between himself and the trainee. "Might I ask where Zechs is?"

The boy swallowed nervously before gesturing vaguely back at the door he had come through. "In there, sir," he answered slowly. "He'll be out in a minute…"

"Will he?"

"Uhm… yes, sir. He should be…"

Treize shook his head and began to step past the younger man. "Oh, he will be, because I'm going to go and get him." He tossed a freezing look at the cadet. "Neither of you should be in here, Mr Maxillian. In fact, neither of you should be off-base at all, and I'm not about to wait around for you any longer." He moved towards the door, pace swift.

A moment later, Treize felt a strong hand catch at his arm and pull him to a stop, preventing him from pushing open the door he had just reached. He turned his head to see Otto looking up at him with a mix of fear and determination on his face.

"Excuse me?" Treize asked coldly.

Otto cringed. "Please don't have me cashiered for saying this, sir," he pleaded, "but please don't go in there! I'll get Zechs! Just… just stay here, please!?"

Treize jerked his arm free and levelled the full force of his coldest glare at the trainee. "I don't think so, cadet."

Otto wilted under the gaze and reluctantly, slowly stepped out of Treize's path to the door.

The instructor threw it open, stepping through into the blackness beyond without hesitation and let the door close behind him.

"Oh, shit!" Otto whispered, as the door swung shut.

****************************

If Treize had imagined that the lighting in the lounge area of the club was poor, it was nothing to how weak it was in this hidden room. As the door swung closed behind him, the room was plunged into darkness enough that Treize had to stand still and close his eyes for a few seconds to force them to adapt.

As he waited, he found that his other senses were working perfectly well. The room was hot, the music – different to what was being played out on the dance floor – still far too loud. Treize had the sense that he was far from alone in the room, that there were other people, though no-one was touching him. He found that if he stretched the limits of his hearing he could make out, in spite of the blare of the music, soft sighs and moans and the sounds of people moving, rubbing against one another.

Realising abruptly that he was holding his breath, he exhaled, breathed in again, and almost choked on the raft of smells as they hit him all at once. The room reeked of spilt alcohol and sweat, a variety of chemicals – sweet and cloying and enough to send him dizzy – and, faintly, the musky tang of sex.

Understanding hit him hard. The state Otto had been in suddenly made perfect sense – the reason for the door being unmarked, and the cadet's insistence that he stay in the main part of the club were explained far too well.

Praying he was wrong in his conclusions, Treize opened his eyes to look around him.

Even with his eyes night-adapted the room was still badly lit, but the instructor was grateful for it now. A quick glance around showed him men scattered about the room, leaning against walls and in corners, plastered across the few bits of furniture. Mostly in pairs, occasionally in threes or, in one case, four, they writhed against one another, working each other's bodies in any and every way Treize would have thought possible, and one or two he wouldn't have.

Convinced he'd stepped into some mediaeval version of hell, the instructor reached behind him, groping for the door handle and the relative sanity of the dance floor, before he remembered why he'd come into the room in the first place.

Somewhere in this extract from a nightmare was Zechs. Treize suddenly had to fight down a wave of images he didn't want as his agile imagination tried to supply him with the possibilities of what the younger man could be doing.

Steeling himself, Treize glanced around the room again, flicking his eyes over the hair and faces of the men in his sight, searching for that distinctive mane and the familiar features.

When he didn't find them, he didn't know whether to feel relieved or distressed. Taking a deep breath, he stepped away from his frozen position by the door and began to make his way deeper into the darkness of the room. It was no small source of relief to Treize that the men he walked past were too engrossed in whatever activity they were indulging in to notice him – either that, or the room operated some sort of odd privacy policy. The idea of being touched by any of these people was enough to make his skin crawl.

As he neared the back wall of the room, a familiar laugh caught the edge of his hearing. Treize turned his head sharply, in time to see white hair shimmer in the darkness as its owner shook his head, laughing again.

Zechs was hiding in one of the furthest corners of the room, leaning his body heavily into that of the red-haired stranger he'd been dancing with earlier. The man said something to the boy and passed him something. Zechs grinned, and pulled away enough that he could fiddle with whatever it was he'd been handed.

Treize took a step or two closer, stopping when Zechs twisted the cap off a small glass bottle and then lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply. The effect of whatever it held was obvious almost immediately. A deep flush rose under pale skin and Zechs began to giggle uncontrollably as he swayed against his partner again.

The red-head caught him, kissed him hard, and then pulled away to push the cadet to his knees in front of him. Zechs went willingly, reaching out with both hands as he did so to loosen the trousers the man was wearing and slide one hand inside them.

Treize stared, utterly unable to move, as Zechs caught the man's erection in his hand and pulled it free of the confining fabric. He paused for a moment, his hair blocking whatever it was he was doing before the cadet leaned in, ran his tongue over the length he was holding and then closed his mouth over it completely, swallowing repeatedly as he began to work up and down.

Treize shivered as numbing shock gave way to an onslaught of other feelings – a whirl of outrage and betrayal, repugnance and, to his horror, the first pangs of arousal. He shook himself from his daze and, revulsion churning his stomach and fury boiling through his body, crossed the gap between himself and his cadet.

The red-head staggered, hitting the adjacent wall with some force as Treize back-handed him across the face. At the same time, the instructor reached down with his left hand and yanked the stunned cadet to his feet. The older man's grip on the boy's collar was vicious, and if he was catching and pulling strands of Zechs's lengthening hair, Treize couldn't, quite, make himself care.

The red-head uttered one faint squeak of protest and shut up again as Treize glared at him, choosing to sag back against the wall rather than challenge the officer.

"Treize?!"

Zechs's gasped, disbelieving exclamation barely registered on the instructor as he flung the younger man towards the door. "Move, cadet!"

Zechs staggered from the force he was propelled with and shook his head as he tried to get his balance back. Treize's hand in the middle of his spine, shoving him hard, prevented both that and the questions he'd been about to ask.

"Treize, what…?" he got out eventually.

The look Treize turned on Zechs was frigidly cold, showing every ounce of the disgust the older man was feeling. "Don't speak to me, cadet," he snarled and shoved the boy towards the door again.

Zechs felt the ice in that look wash through him as though he'd been poisoned, freezing him. Never, even in his worst nightmares, had Treize looked at him like that. His throat tightened as his emotions roiled and Zechs all-but ran for the door to the room, not knowing whether he wanted more to please the older man in any way he could so Treize wouldn't, ever, look at him like that again – or whether he just wanted to be away from this version of his friend who was scaring him so badly.

Zechs stepped out into the lounge area without looking where he was going and smacked hard into the warm body of another person. He tried to pull away, to turn to wait for his teacher and firm hands caught him and prevented the movement.

"Let me go!" Zechs gasped.

"Easy, love, easy. What's the panic about?"

"Otto?"

"Yes, hon… Did Treize find you…?" The other cadet trailed off as the door to the room banged again and the instructor came through it, his face like a storm. "Never mind."

Treize raked his gaze over the two cadets waiting for him, far from missing the way Otto was holding onto his roommate, or the stunned and frightened expression on Zechs's face.

Feeling more out of control and angry than he could recall feeling for a long time, Treize gestured sharply at the steps that would take them out of the club. "Move, cadets… and not a word!"

Unsteady on their feet, pale with fear, Otto and Zechs turned for the steps and crossed the dance floor, Treize hard on their heels.


	10. Chapter 10

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Ten**

_Mid-October AC-190 _

_Lake Victoria Military Academy_

Treize slammed the door to his office closed, set both of the cadets he was with at attention and stood in front of his desk, raking both of them with his gaze.

The journey from the city centre back to the Academy had, if anything, served to fuel Treize's temper and it took him a moment to master it enough to speak without shouting. "Does either of you have an explanation to offer me?" he asked, and his voice was quietly lethal.

Neither Zechs nor Otto moved a muscle in response, both choosing to remain silent, their eyes fixed on some distant position on the horizon. Treize glared at the pair of them harder, and took a step or two towards the dark-haired boy. "Mr Maxillian," he snapped. "You tried to prevent me from entering that room in the club. You must have known what I was going to find. Explain it for me."

Otto swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in his throat. Under the guise of preparing his reply for the officer, he sneaked a look at Zechs, wondering how the other boy was holding up to all this.

"Cadet!" Treize barked, and Otto snapped his eyes back front and centre.

"Sorry, sir!" Realising that Treize was still waiting for an answer to his question, Otto swallowed again. "Uhm…" he began. "I don't know if I can explain it to you, sir."

"I suggest that you try, cadet," the older man ordered.

"Yes, sir." Otto drew a final deep breath and tried to find the words he needed to make the points that were floating around in his mind. "Uh, most gay clubs that I've been in have had a room like that one, sir. It's just… a thing. Gay men are a minority in any community, so we don't really have many other opportunities to meet others and uhm…" He trailed off and shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, I just don't think you're going to get it."

"I 'get' the concept of a casual fuck as well as the next man, cadet!" Treize snarled, noting absently that Zechs flinched at his words. "And the purpose of the room was obvious. I was asking what the two of you thought you were doing in it!"

Otto dropped his gaze to the floor, blushing. "Uh, with all due respect, sir, that's… none of your business," he murmured quietly.

Treize went still, surprised beyond words for a moment. Loathe as he was to admit it, the boy had a point – but before he could act his mind supplied him a handy image of Zechs on his knees and his anger boiled up again. "Isn't it, cadet?" he demanded. "I imagine the Academy Board would differ on that point, but I shall let it stand." Determined to get his answers, Treize closed the gap between himself and the dark-haired trainee and loomed over him, intending to be intimidating. "I may be nothing more than your teacher, Mr Maxillian, but – and you may well be unaware of this fact – I am also Mr Marquise's legal guardian. Do you still think it's none of my business?"

Zechs dropped from attention to turn a pleading glance on the older man. "Treize…" he started, and stopped when the older man turned an icy glance on him.

"Mind your place, cadet! I do not recall giving you permission to stand down!" The officer kept his gaze locked on the blonde's until the boy shivered and looked down at the floor, then Treize turned his attention back onto the other cadet. "Mr Maxillian?"

Otto shot a look at Zechs, concerned, then glanced up at his teacher. "I… don't know, sir," he admitted. "Please forgive me for saying this, sir, but perhaps you should be asking Zechs that question?"

Treize took a slow step back, surprised by the sudden realisation that, furious with the boy though he was, he rather liked Otto. He had honour and he had nerve.

The instructor looked at the boy for a few minutes, analysing, then smiled slowly. "Perhaps I should, indeed," he agreed. "You may go, cadet, on the proviso that you come and see me sometime before the term starts again. I have a few things I wish to discuss with you at a more convenient hour."

Rich brown eyes widened in disbelief. "I… yes, sir." With one last, worried look at his roommate, Otto snapped a salute and hurried from the room, leaving Treize alone with Zechs.

The instructor took a few moments to compose himself by walking around his desk and sitting down. Focusing his attention on some random bit of paperwork that happened to be in front of him, Treize spoke without looking up at the trainee. "Here we are again, Mr Marquise. Do you have any half-witted excuses to offer me for your behaviour this time?"

Without looking up from the place on the carpet he'd fixed his gaze on, Zechs shook his head. "No excuses, no, sir."

"Any _explanations_ then!? What were you thinking when you chose to leave the base? And when you chose to go into that room? And – God save you – when you _chose_ to do… that… to that man!"

The revulsion Treize had felt at what he had witnessed was clear in his voice, and Zechs cringed from it internally. "I didn't know you were going to follow me!" he protested. "I never meant… never intended for you to see…!"

"I should sincerely hope not!" Treize snarled, and then took a deep breath as he forcibly reined his temper in. "I assume you know how many regulations you've breached tonight?"

Zechs nodded mutely.

"I thought so." He closed his eyes for a moment, then stood up and came round the desk again to stand in front of the younger boy. "Zechs, what on Earth did you think you were doing? I can understand why you'd want to go out dancing, though I don't consider it particularly wise after the day you've had. In and of itself that isn't really the problem here." He trailed off for a moment, and then shook his head. "I don't care about the dancing," he repeated, "but everything else…. What I just saw does not fit with everything you told me this afternoon. Either you were lying to me then, or there's something wrong now. Which is it?"

Zechs was blushing furiously, and desperately trying not to fidget. The combination of alcohol and adrenaline, the stress of the day and the unanswered physical need in his body were combining to make him feel edgy and more than a little raw. It was a feeling he knew well, the first warning sign of a threatening break down that would make the earlier panic attack in the restaurant look like a case of the hiccups, and he knew he had to get away from this conversation and away from Treize before it hit him. It was something his friend had never seen and Zechs didn't intend him to have to start now. Some secrets were best kept as just that.

"Neither," the cadet replied quietly, shoring up his defences as best he could, knowing the fastest way to get out of this room was to give Treize the answers he was looking for. "I wasn't lying to you then and nothing is wrong now. I'm sorry you had to see that," Zechs added, with all the composure he could muster. "This whole evening must have been rather unpleasant for you."

Treize raised an eyebrow, surprised. Despite the tension he could feel flowing off the younger man in waves and the deep colour staining his golden skin, Zechs's voice was controlled, his tone polite, his whole apology rather… adult. Wondering, Treize closed his eyes and forced his temper down. Was it possible that they could have this conversation as civilised grown ups?

"Somewhat, yes," he admitted. "I'm quite certain I could have lived my whole life without ever going into that back room, and I had no more wish to see you like that than you would me."

Zechs nodded and Treize steeled himself to carry on. "If I'm angry with you, it's only because I'm worried for you. This afternoon you weren't comfortable enough with your sexuality to have told me about it, yet a few hours later I find you dancing in a gay night club, dabbling with what seemed very much like some sort of drug and indulging in some very intimate acts with a man I can only assume is a stranger!" The teacher stopped to draw breath and gestured with a hand. "And, what is going on between you and Otto? You didn't tell me the two of you were more than friends?!"

Pale blue eyes flashed up to Treize's in a quick glance and a small smile touched Zechs's lips for an instant. "We aren't more than friends," Zechs insisted.

Treize scowled. "I was watching for a good while before I found you in that back room, Zechs. I saw you dancing with Otto and I saw you kiss him. That wasn't the first time the two of you have touched like that, unless I'm very much mistaken."

The younger man gave a half-hearted shrug, looking up more certainly as Treize's calmer, more reasonable tone continued, doing a lot to reassure the cadet that his teacher didn't, in fact, hate him completely and wasn't about to disown him. "No, it wasn't," he confessed softly. "But we aren't a couple or anything like that. It's… just something we do once in a while."

"Why?" the teacher asked.

Zechs bit his lip, unknowingly in the same position as Treize had been that morning, trying to explain his relationship with Liliya. The cadet didn't quite have the words to explain that it was the simple intimacies Otto had offered him so readily that had allowed Zechs to learn to accept and enjoy this part of his nature, or that the easy physicality they shared now helped when one of them was upset or stressed.

"It just… feels nice," the cadet offered weakly. "It's comforting sometimes, that's all," he added, trying to convey that neither he nor Otto saw it as anything other than a more involved version of a friendly hug. "It's just…. I imagine it's much as you have things with Major Valadin."

Treize blinked his surprise, but nodded his acceptance, filing away Zechs's answer to think about in his own time. The boy's relations with Otto were the least of his worries at the moment, anyway. "And the rest of it?" he asked quietly. "Can you explain that as well?"

Zechs flushed again, dropping his gaze back to the carpet. "I told you I was sorry I didn't tell you about me sooner, I just…. Me being comfortable with what I am doesn't mean I can be sure everyone else will be too. I was worried about your reaction…." He trailed off, and took a deep breath as Treize nodded.

"Fair enough. I saw Major Larkspur tonight and he tells me you and Otto are in that club quite frequently."

"Pizzazz is where we usually go when we go out," Zechs confirmed, shrugging.

Treize scowled a little. "What about the drugs I saw you with? Do you normally take whatever it was you were on tonight when you go out?

"Drugs?" Zechs asked, only now registering that Treize had even mentioned the subject. "What drugs? I don't take…"

The older man interrupted him with a wave of his hand and his face had become clouded with the first traces of anger again. "Larkspur mentioned something called 'poppers' to me when I spoke to him, and I saw you with a little glass bottle…"

Zechs blinked. "Do you mean the Liquid Gold?" he quizzed, frowning.

"Quite possibly. Do I?"

The cadet shook his head. "Liquid Gold is a type of poppers," he agreed, "but they aren't really a drug." He stopped a moment, thinking. "Well, they are but not the way you mean. They're something that's been about for a few centuries, a liquid compound that goes to a gas just above room temperature. If you inhale the fumes you get a couple of minutes of giddiness and stuff, a bit like being suddenly very drunk, only without all the side effects and it wears off much faster." Treize raised an eyebrow again at the explanation and Zechs shrugged. "They're used mostly as a relaxant, really," he added, carefully not mentioning they were most often used in that capacity between two men in bed, as a part of foreplay. Some things Treize didn't need to think about too much. "They're harmless," Zechs insisted.

The teacher folded his arms, staring at his pupil coolly "Really? Larkspur told me to advise the two of you to 'lay off before you made yourselves sick.' Hardly harmless."

Zechs shook his head. "I didn't even know that was possible. I can't imagine how much of the stuff I'd have to use to make myself sick. The worst I've ever done was give myself a migraine, and I was really…" He trailed off, editing the rest of the sentence as more information the older man just didn't need and shook his head again. "Honestly, Treize, Liquid Gold is harmless. It's not even really illegal…. It's usually sold as a room scenter!"

The teacher didn't seem impressed. "It's still a drug, cadet, and you are in the military. Aside from the fact that no drug is ever safe to take, if you were caught piloting under the influence you'd be cashiered instantly."

Zechs stared, feeling the control he had on himself slip a little. "It's no more dangerous than the vodka you gave me earlier!" he protested. "And I'm not stupid enough to take something that would affect my flying! I've never taken anything that has, I swear, and I never will. Not if there's any chance I could be piloting the next morning. Once the effect of Liquid Gold wears off, it's completely out of the system. No side effects. It's why it's so popular."

Treize gazed at Zechs levelly for a moment and then nodded. "We'll see," he allowed. "I don't like it, but I'll take you at your word that it won't affect your performance."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Treize went back to his desk and sighed. "This brings us back, unfortunately, to the real reason you're still stood there. Just what do you think you were doing in that back room with a man you don't know?"

Zechs stiffened a little in response to the weight of disapproval in the older man's voice. "His name is Sebastian. Otto and I have run into him in the club a few times now." The cadet sighed softly. "I really wish you hadn't hit him like that," he continued quietly. "He was nice, and now he probably won't want anything to do with me again."

Treize's sapphire eyes flashed and narrowed as he laughed humourlessly. "Given what I caught him doing to you, he should count himself lucky. He deserved a damn sight more than a slap across the face!"

"Why?" Zechs demanded, and his voice carried more heat than he wanted it to as his self-control wavered a little more. "He wasn't hurting me, or making me do anything I didn't want to!"

"Oh, come on! You haven't the faintest idea of what you want! You're barely fifteen years old, Zechs, little more than a child. You shouldn't even have been in that club in the first place, much less have been granting sexual favours to strangers!"

Zechs's eyes widened. "Sebastian isn't exactly a stranger, Treize. And I wasn't granting him any favours!"

Again, the image of Zechs on his knees in front of the red-head flashed through Treize's mind, kindling all the anger he'd suppressed back to full force. He glared at the younger man and the cadet actually took a step backwards.

"Treize?" he asked softly.

"Do you have any idea what the men in that club want from you?" the Instructor hissed.

"Probably about the same thing I want from them," Zechs retorted, his own temper flaring finally, "so I have a fair idea, yes."

"I doubt it."

"I don't. Do you think tonight was the first time I'd been in that room, Treize? Did I look as though I didn't know what I was doing?"

"I'm trying very, very hard not to think about that, thank you! The entire display was sickening enough the first time without having to review it!"

The younger man went completely still. "And thank you for finally telling me what you really think of me now," he murmured quietly though his voice was fairly vibrating with the intensity of his anger. "May I ask you a question?" he enquired, but didn't wait for an answer. "Are we speaking as Instructor and cadet here?"

Treize folded his arms, gazing at the boy for a moment before he answered, "If it will suit you, yes."

Zechs nodded. "Then I respectfully remind you of the point made by Cadet Maxillian. What I do off-base, out of uniform and in my own time is none of your damned business, sir!" He waited a breath and then came to attention. "May I be excused, sir? Because I have heard about all I can stand to of your hypocrisy for one night."

Without waiting for Treize to reply one way or another, Zechs turned on his heel and fled the room, leaving the older man to stare after him, stunned.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_Mid-October AC-190 _

_Lake Victoria Military Academy_

Otto shot Zechs a concerned glance as the two of them stood with their fellow classmates in the corridor outside Major Valadin's lecture theatre but refrained from asking him, again, if he really was all right. Contrary to the front he generally presented to the rest of the world, Otto was neither insensitive nor stupid and he well knew that this was neither the time nor the place to resume that particular conversation with his friend.

Not that it would do any good, anyway.

The details of what had occurred in Treize's office after Otto's dismissal were something the dark-haired boy had yet to pry out of Zechs but it didn't take a genius to work out that the conversation hadn't gone well.

Though Otto had intended to wait up for his roommate, the stress of his globe-hopping flight and the exhaustion of his own exertions in the club had caught up with him and he had fallen asleep, only to wake sometime later to see Zechs sitting on the edge of his bunk, staring blindly at the floor. Otto had slipped out of his own bed and padded across the room, settling himself on the bunk at the other boy's side, intending to ask what was wrong.

He'd opened his mouth to speak and stopped as Zechs turned his head to look at Otto for a moment, and then leaned in and kissed him fiercely. Before Otto had quite realised what was happening, the blond had gotten him flat on his back and half undressed and had seemed to be intent on ignoring completely every last one of the few restrictions they'd agreed to on what they did together.

Shivering at the not-quite-sane look in his roommate's eyes, Otto had planted his hands against Zechs's shoulders and shoved as hard as he could, rolling the two of them over and pinning the taller boy down.

After that, greater experience had allowed Otto to wrest control of what happened from the other cadet and it hadn't taken much work with his hand to make Zechs climax with a keening cry, hard enough that every inch of his body was left trembling in the aftermath.

Otto's whispered, "Are you all right?" a few minutes later, when the shaking hadn't begun to ease the way he'd expected it to had been answered only with a silent headshake and Zechs rolling over to bury his face in his pillow. Wondering if it was only his over-active imagination that made him suspect that his friend was crying, Otto had settled himself into the bed behind Zechs, throwing the covers over both of them and wrapping himself around the blond, anchoring him with the weight and warmth of another body. Zechs's hand gripping his a moment later had let Otto know the gesture was appreciated and they had stayed that way until they both fell asleep.

The dark-haired cadet had woken alone the following morning, and if Zechs hadn't been withdrawn almost to the point of sleepwalking ever since, it would have been as though as nothing had happened.

"Is he okay?"

The whisper made Otto look away from Zechs and across the corridor at Noin.

The girl was staring at Zechs with every bit as much concern in her face as Otto felt, and though she'd refused to speak to either of them beyond acknowledging the apology they'd tendered her the day before, there was no doubting that she cared for the blond.

Otto shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "He's been like this since the evening I got back."

"Mr. Treize did say Zechs hadn't been well…" Noin offered tentatively. "Maybe..." she suggested but trailed off before she could finish.

Given that Treize was most likely the cause of this funk, Otto didn't quite know what to say to that. Fortunately, Major Valadin chose that moment to open her door to them and he was spared from having to make a reply.

The Russian major looked exactly as she always did – her uniform perfect and her manner unapproachable – but Otto caught a glimpse of sympathy in her eyes as she swept her icy grey gaze over Zechs.

Otto slipped into his normal seat, Zechs sinking down next to him, and fixed his attention on the front of the room on automatic pilot, three years of practice making the routine effortless. He didn't really need the sudden tension in the blonde's body to identify the elegant figure sitting on the corner of Valadin's desk, one booted foot swinging lazily as the cadets settled themselves and began to haul notepads and palmtop computers from their bags.

"What's Instructor Treize doing here?" Noin hissed.

Otto shrugged. "Don't know. Zechs?"

The blond didn't look at either of his friends as he shook his head.

"Great."

Valadin cleared her throat to call the class to order. "Good morning, cadets. I am delighted to see that you all returned safely from your break, and I am sure you will be equally delighted to learn that this is the last class you will take with me whilst at the Academy unless you have elected to specialise in intelligence work. It is, of course, also the hardest class you have taken with me so far. One in three of you will not pass."

Sitting behind Valadin, watching the reaction of the students listening to her, Treize was forced to repress a smile as she made that last announcement. It was, almost word for word, exactly the same speech as she had given to his class in his last year at the Academy. The comment about the pass rate had been true then, and was doubtless still true now.

"The title of the class is Practical Covert Technique – and you need not bother to write that down. Please put away all note taking equipment and refrain from bringing it to future lessons. You will not take notes for this class, there will be no handouts."

Liliya paused to allow that shock to sink in, and then she turned to Treize and offered him a small smile before looking out at her class again. "Now, you all know Instructor Khushrenada, of course. He has kindly agreed to help me teach this course this year."

************************

"Cadet Marquise, could you stay a moment? I'd like to speak to you."

Zechs froze as he registered Valadin's voice, knowing that her so-polite request may as well have been an order. He could ignore the one no more than the other. "Of course, ma'am," he agreed and sank back into his seat, watching helplessly as Noin and Otto slipped from the room, leaving him alone with the Major.

He felt himself tensing slowly as she ran her gaze over him, wondering what the hell she could possibly want.

"You've impressed me, Zechs," she said eventually, leaning back against the row of chairs in front of him and tilting her head to one side.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Zechs asked, confused. "I don't understand."

"Treize," she offered by way of explanation. "I'll confess, I didn't think you had it in you."

"I'm sorry?"

"To call him on his behaviour the way you did. I didn't think you had the nerve. I'm impressed."

She smiled a little and Zechs stared at her. "With respect, ma'am," he grated, "but what are you talking about?"

"Ah. So sorry. I should learn to begin at the beginning, no?" The smile settled, and her eyes began to sparkle. "Treize told me that the two of you had something of a falling out over the break, and what it was about. As I said, I'm impressed that you can stand up to him so but I wonder why you are so angry with him?"

Zechs glared at her, caught between shock and betrayal. "Did he tell you what he said to me?" he asked, forgetting that his initial reaction had been to tell Valadin to go to hell.

"Da, he did, and I agree with you – he is a hypocrite. If he had spoken to me as he did to you I would have stabbed him with something." Liliya paused and lifted herself from the support of the chairs to come and sit of the corner of Zechs's desk much as Treize had been sitting on hers at the start of the lesson. "But," she continued, "I would also have known why he was doing it, and I don't think that you do." Long fingers reached out and ran gently over Zechs's cheek before he could flinch back to prevent the touch. "Do you know who Treize considers the most important person in this world?" Liliya asked softly.

Zechs frowned. "Mariemeia, I suppose. Leia, if not her."

Valadin shook her head. "Nyet, Zechs. No. I have no doubt that he loves them both dearly and that he would die to protect them if he had to, but they are not the most important." She stopped and smiled gently. "You are."

"I don't think you know what you're talking about," Zechs hissed, forgetting all protocol as anger flared, quick and hot.

The Major raised an eyebrow. "Do I not? I have known Treize for a very long time, Zechs. I taught him some of the most important lessons he will ever learn. Believe me, I know a great deal more about him than you can imagine, and I know this. However wrong in his methods, he is only trying to protect you, darling. He loves you, and the idea of you being hurt in any way terrifies him as very little else can."

Zechs was looking at her, eyes wide behind his glasses, lower lip caught in his teeth. "I…"

"I've never seen him as he was when he came to me that night," Liliya added pensively. "You've hurt him, I think, and upset him rather badly."

Guilt bit at Zechs instantly, but he forced it down as he glared. "How have I hurt him? I didn't ask him to follow me. I didn't ask him to interfere. I certainly didn't ask him for his damned opinion on my private life!"

Valadin tilted her head. "I don't recall Treize asking for your opinion on his, Zechs, but that didn't stop you giving it when you found him with me."

"That was different!" Zechs retorted instantly.

Liliya smirked. "I rather thought you'd say that," she murmured.

"Given that it's the truth, I would hope so!"

"Really? Tell me, darling, how is it different? The both of you are doing something that the other objects to, and both of you are insisting on forcing their own point of view down the other's throat. If you aren't careful you'll choke each other."

Zechs stood up abruptly. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected you to understand," he snapped dismissively.

Valadin straightened. "Careful, cadet," she warned. "I'm not about to tolerate insolence from you. If you're referring to that fact that Treize is married…"

"Of course I am!" Zechs snarled, then shook his head. "He's not… he's not who I thought he was. I…"

"Very few people are who we would like to think they are, darling, but you did have him on something of a pedestal." She smiled. "In the end, this was always going to happen, I think. The both of you have such strange notions about the other that it was inevitable. You should perhaps be grateful that it happened over something so minor."

"Minor!" Zechs choked. "Ma'am… you weren't there. You didn't see him, didn't hear… what he said…"

Liliya watched as the boy turned away from her, obviously hurting, and knew she 'd found what she had come here to find. The story she had dragged from Treize had been complete but for one key detail – the other officer hadn't been able to tell her what it was that had prompted Zechs's sudden flash of temper. "Tell me," she encouraged, determined for the sake of both boys to lance this wound of its pain so they could begin to mend fences.

Zechs shook his head, so that, for a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. Then his voice echoed back to her. "Treize said… he said that he'd never seen anything so… So sickening…. That I…." He broke off, bringing his arms up to wrap around himself for a split second. "Why did you tell him?" Zechs demanded suddenly, turning back around to face the Major. "He would never have worked it out on his own!"

"I'm sorry?" Liliya asked, having the sudden sense that she'd lost control of the conversation.

"Treize said it was you who told him I was gay!" the cadet spat. "Why did you do that? He didn't need to know – I could have…"

"Lived a lie?" Valadin finished softly. "Could you have done that, really, darling? Have you ever kept anything a secret from him?" She shook her head. "I've seen the two of you together, Zechs, when you think no-one is looking. It would have killed you to lie to him like that."

"It would have been better than this!"

"No, it wouldn't have." Liliya stepped forward and again reached out a hand, running cool fingers against the cadet's flushed face. "Treize is what he is, darling. A product of his upbringing, his class, his culture – with all the faults and flaws that implies. It's why he needs me – as I think you knew." She smiled. "His reaction wasn't to you, or to the idea that you could be gay, but to the reality of what that meant. To seeing someone he considers a child still, someone he must protect, an innocent, in such a situation. You will have to give him time to process that."

Valadin's smile suddenly turned a touch wicked as she stepped backwards. "It was also the reaction of the typically arrogant straight male, with all those silly ideas of dominance and submission that they seem to have. Consider that he caught you on your knees, about to go down on your friend – why, it's something no _man_ would ever do! It's _weak_ and _degrading_ and… " She trailed off, chuckling a little to herself, the tone mocking and after a moment Zechs joined her, wondering that he could have any common ground with this so severe woman.

Liliya nodded, pleased that she had managed to cheer Zechs a little. "Go and talk to him, darling. Clear the air between you – you'll both be the better for it."

"Yes, ma'am…. And thank you," Zechs added quietly.

"You're welcome, darling." She turned to walk down the steps and stopped a little way down, turning back to him with a sinful little grin. "Oh, and darling? Ask me someday how I made him pay for daring to think like that. I imagine you'll find it quite amusing…"

The ideas that called forth in Zechs's mind were positively alarming, the effect only made worse by the knowledge that this woman would be capable of every single one of them.

"Dismissed, cadet," Valadin called as she reached the door, and Zechs was left scrambling to put away his things as fast as he could.

********************************

Treize was, as Zechs had expected him to be, in his office when the younger man located him but he was not sitting behind his desk, working. When he bade Zechs enter, the cadet had to look a round for a moment to locate the Instructor, who was sitting on the window ledge, staring off at something across the base.

"Sir?" Zechs asked hesitantly.

"Cadet," Treize greeted coolly. "Come in. What did you want?"

Zechs took a few steps further into the room, closing the office door behind him as he did so. "Major Valadin, sir… she said I should come and talk to you…"

"Did she now? What does she imagine we have to talk about?"

"What… happened, I think, sir. She said you told her and…"

Treize's body tensed noticeably, but he didn't look at the younger man. "Whatever I may or may not have said to Major Valadin on the subject is none of your concern, cadet," he snapped. "She had no right to mention it to you!"

Zechs nodded, trying not to wince at the blast of temper. "Maybe not, sir, but she did." He waited for the teacher to respond, to look round at him and when he continued to stare out of the window, Zechs bit his lip. "Sir, I'm sorry… I didn't… I didn't mean to hurt you, I just…." Words deserted the younger man and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry," he repeated softly. "I'll go."

The cadet pulled himself to attention and snapped off a salute but just before he could turn to open the door again, Treize looked round.

Sapphire eyes scanned the younger man head to foot, and almost immediately the Instructor scowled, standing up to cross the room. "Are you all right?" he demanded. "You aren't ill, are you?"

Zechs blinked at him behind his glasses, taken aback by the sudden change of mood from his teacher. "No, I'm not ill… why?"

"You look…" Long fingers came up and pulled Zechs's sunglasses off, revealing red-rimmed dull blue eyes, ringed with shadows. "…terrible." Treize finished. "Zechs, what the hell is going on?"

"I didn't sleep well last night," Zechs protested automatically. "I'm fine. May I go, sir?"

"No," Treize denied. "Were you out again last night? Are you hung over? Is that what this is?"

"No, sir! Sir, really, I'm _fine_!"

"You aren't fine, Zechs… Did you look in a mirror this morning?"

"Of course I did, sir."

"Then how do you expect me to believe there's nothing wrong?" Treize's frown deepened, and then his eyes closed momentarily. "Did I do this to you?" he asked softly, and when Zechs opened his mouth to protest, stopped him with a raised hand. "The truth, please. I would like to think there's that much of our friendship left."

Zechs swallowed. "I was telling the truth! I _didn't _sleep well last night!"

"Oh? It takes more than one bad night to leave someone in this state, Zechs, but carry on. Why didn't you sleep well?"

"I just didn't. I haven't been for a while. It's nothing to worry about."

"Really? What constitutes 'a while', then? Since the night I caught you in the club?"

"The night we went to the theatre, actually. Between you and Noin…" Zechs shook his head. "I'm fine, sir. Or I will be." He shrugged. "I only came to apologise, sir, if you'll let me. I had no right to say what I did to you, and I never intended you to be hurt by it."

"Yes, you did." Treize corrected, though he didn't clarify which statement he was correcting. "Of course I'll accept your apology."

"Thank you, sir," Zechs sighed, feeling a weight lift from him.

Treize watched the trainee for a moment, then sighed. "Zechs, do you have afternoon classes?" he asked.

"No, sir. At least, nothing that I'm required to attend. I have an optional advanced physics course, but it's more a group study session than a class. I can miss it, if I need to. Why?"

Treize nodded. "Because I want you to go and get out of that uniform and meet me back here in half an hour. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir. Of course I can , but… may I ask why?"

"I'll explain later, if you don't mind." Treize smiled slightly. "Hop to it, then. Oh, and wear something comfortable."

"Yes, sir."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_Mid-October AC-190 _

_Lake Victoria Military Academy_

Zechs knocked lightly on Treize's office door half an hour later, then pushed it open when the older man's voice bade him enter.

Dressed in a light t-shirt and casual pants, Treize was sitting behind his desk, reading something off his computer screen. He looked up at Zechs as the boy closed the door behind him and smiled. "Sit down a minute, will you? I just need to finish reading this."

Zechs dropped into the visitor's chair on the other side of the desk, and tilted his head a little to see if he could work out what Treize was so engrossed in. The screen was a flat white, containing only line after line of text that appeared, as Zechs leaned a little closer to read it, to make absolutely no sense.

The older man noticed what he was doing and turned the laptop with a grin. "Curious? Go ahead and see if you can read it."

Surprised that Treize would be so open, Zechs started at the top of the screen and stopped before he got more than half way through the first line. The text, though it seemed familiar from somewhere, was a nonsense.

"Confused?" Treize asked.

"Uhm, yes. What is that?"

"It's a code currently being used by the higher levels of an underground resistance network. Alliance Cryptographers have been trying to break it for a couple of weeks now, but they haven't got anywhere so it's been sent out to everyone on what they call their 'watch-word' list."

Zechs raised his eyebrows behind his glasses. He'd heard about that – and been fascinated by it ever since.

The cadet had run across the name originally when it had been mentioned in one of his Higher Mathematics classes in his first year. As part of the required curriculum, Zechs and his class mates had been introduced to the subject of codes in their first term at the Academy, being told at the time that it was necessary for anyone who ever wanted to hold a command post to be able to decipher simple algorithms so that data could be passed securely.

The entire class had felt very proud of themselves when they broke the simplistic codes the teacher had given them within a matter of minutes, certain that they were all born cryptographers until she had laughed at them all and gone on to explain that they'd only just begun to tap the world of code-breaking.

The instructor had spent the rest of the class proving that point and then had finished off by saying that she'd be holding a seminar on the subject later in the term if anyone wanted to know more. Zechs had attended – on Treize's advice, he recalled now – and had been instantly taken by the subject. Breaking codes was just like solving logic puzzles, something he'd always enjoyed doing.

The teacher had smiled at him indulgently when he said this to her, and suggested that he should wait until he graduated and then apply to be on the 'watch-word' list if he was still so interested, quietly explaining what it was when Zechs looked confused.

It had turned out that although the Alliance had a team of crack code-breakers permanently in place, so many of the officers who should have been on it were tied, by the same skills that would have made them valuable there, to being in other places. It was a big organisation and personnel with the facility for the high-end logical reasoning and mathematics skill needed were all too often already working as tactics specialists, engineers, Staff officers, programmers and a myriad of other posts that were just as vital.

The list had been started when a cryptographer – despairing of ever breaking a particular code – had shown it to his engineer roommate, only to have the man break it in a matter of seconds because he'd recognised the base of the code as a machine language he used every day.

From that moment on, the Alliance had kept a secured list of names of people who had shown a facility for cryptography but who were unavailable for permanent assignments to the role for various reasons, and to be on that list had rapidly become a real marker of prestige. Membership was strictly limited to those the Head of the Code-Breakers thought could be useful, and he was brutal in his selection criteria.

The exact roster of members changed almost daily and their identities were a heavily guarded secret but totalled together, the 150 or so people on the 'watch-word' list made up one of the single biggest networks of Human Intelligence ever assembled – a frightening amount of raw IQ and focussed genius.

Zechs looked at Treize, surprised. "Did one of the other instructors give it you to look at or something?" he asked curiously.

Treize chuckled softly. "Did they?" he replied. "You don't think I'm capable of it, then?"

Zechs shrugged, realising that Treize had answered the rather tactless question the only way he could – and had probably still broken half a dozen regulations in doing so. If he'd answered 'yes', Treize would have been – in addition to lying, Zechs suddenly recognized – telling the cadet that one of the Academy staff was a member of the list. If he'd answered 'no', he'd have been telling Zechs that _he _was, something he was absolutely forbidden to do.

Zechs nodded slowly. "Probably," he answered eventually, admitting that it was no more than truth. Treize had always displayed ability for maths and codes. The BSc degree that he had gained during his training at the Academy – an achievement demanded of every Specials cadet so as to fulfil the Alliance's officer education requirements – had been a dual major in Aerospace and Computer Sciences.

More than half the simulations Treize subjected cadets to during his classes he wrote himself in his spare time, and he'd already had over half a dozen design ideas for the Mecha they all piloted accepted by the Engineering Branch – most of them dealing with the coding of the suit AI's.

"Well, then," Treize quipped with a small grin, breaking Zechs from his train of thought. The instructor tilted his head as though something had occurred to him and then hit a few buttons on the keyboard, standing up as the small printer tucked out of the way under his desk whirred into life. He neatened the few sheets of paper it spat out into a stack, slipped them into a folder he retrieved from a drawer and handed it across the desk to Zechs, who took it warily.

"Treize?"

"I thought you might have fun playing with deciphering the code – I know it's something you enjoy. Just don't tell anyone what that one is or where it came from."

"I won't," Zechs promised, then smiled. "Have you broken it?" he asked curiously.

"Very nearly," Treize told him with a small smile. "But I'm not telling you any more or I'll give too much away." He reached to shut the computer down and gestured to Zechs with one hand as he made for the door. "Come on."

*******************************

"Where are we going?" Zechs asked as he shifted against his seatbelt. He was strapped into the passenger seat of Treize's staff land rover and had been since the older man had directed him to it and then steered the vehicle out of the Academy gates some fifteen minutes before.

"Just for a walk along the lake. I thought we could both do to get away from the Academy for a few hours."

"Oh." Zechs glanced out of the windscreen, and scowled. "Any particular reason why?" he asked quietly.

The instructor flicked him a glance. "Yes," he replied, but he didn't elaborate. "I'm sorry if the idea doesn't appeal," he added a few minutes later. "I've always found the lakeshore a good place to think things through, that's all."

"No, it's fine," Zechs returned, then, knowing he risked a searing put-down for his trouble, asked, "What is it you need to think about?"

Treize sighed softly. "You." He turned the vehicle into a little car park, and killed the engine.

"Me?" Zechs asked, suddenly alarmed. He freed the seatbelt as fast as he could and scrambled out of the door to watch as Treize collected a little rucksack from the boot and shrugged it onto his shoulder. The instructor handed the cadet a scale-map and then led the way down the dusty dirt path that led from the car park down the shore of the lake itself.

"Treize? I don't understand?"

The older man glanced down at his companion as he marked their starting point on the map he'd handed over. "There's not much to understand. I simply wanted a chance to talk to you."

"Oh." Zechs glanced down at the map, at his wrist-watch and then at the sun and fixed the direction Treize was heading off at in his head for future reference. He matched the teacher's easy, ground-eating pace, biting at his lower lip. "What… what about?"

"There's no need for you to sound quite so timid, Zechs. What do you imagine I'm going to do to you?"

Zechs felt himself flush bright red as the older man's innocently teasing question triggered all sorts of inappropriate lines of thought. Dressed as casually as he was, the proper, model Officer was banished and Treize was nothing more than an obviously physically fit and healthy, attractive young man. Zechs's better-than-average imagination could envision the teacher doing all sorts of things to him in a spot as deserted as the one they were currently in – most of which Treize himself probably didn't even know were possible.

Hopefully hiding his face by ducking his head to look down at the floor and making his too-long bangs fall over his eyes, Zechs muttered, "I don't know."

Treize chuckled. "I meant only what I said, Zechs. I rather think the two of us need a chance to talk some things through."

Zechs nodded. "Maybe. But why out here?"

"Because I think it needs to be _just _the two of us, and not the Instructor and Cadet." He shrugged. "You're free to disagree of course, but I thought it might help. I'm not able to ask you half of what I want to when I'm in uniform without crossing the line of acceptable behaviour, and you certainly can't answer me as honestly as I would like you to."

The younger man cringed. "I don't know… I, uh, managed that all right last time," he admitted slowly.

"That's true, I suppose." Treize shot the cadet a rueful glance. "That was actually one of the things I wanted to talk about."

"I said I was sorry!" Zechs broke in, lifting his head to look at his companion.

Treize nodded. "Yes, and it might be worth more if I thought for a second you actually meant it, and weren't just apologising because Liliya made you feel guilty."

"That's not true!" Zechs protested, stung.

"Really?" Treize asked. "Then it's just co-incidence that had you knocking on my door straight after the first class you had with her, obviously having spoken to her? You had over a week and a half to come to me before that – but you didn't." He shook his head. "Forgive me if I'm the only one who finds that rather telling."

"Valadin didn't have to make me feel guilty!" Zechs spluttered. "Do you really think I wasn't already? I would have come to you sooner except I didn't know you were even bothered until she told me I'd upset you."

Treize raised an eyebrow. "Really? It was a fair assumption to make, Zechs. You should have noticed that much from the way I was talking to you and Mr Maxillian in my office."

Zechs shrugged, but it wasn't a light gesture. "That was before I shouted at you. I'm not sure that I have anything to apologise for before that," he muttered.

Treize hesitated, scowling at the pretty scenery as he thought about that. "I disagree," he answered eventually, "but we can get to that in a minute. It does help my case though – If you really thought you owed me an apology you would have found me long before Liliya fed you her sob-story. What did she tell you, anyway? Just so I know what to rake her over the coals for when I see her next."

"I didn't come and find you because I wasn't feeling…." Zechs cut himself off mid-thought and changed what he was going to say. "Well, that doesn't matter, but Valadin saying she'd never seen you like that had very little to do with it. Please don't be angry with her. She made a lot of sense of some things for me, actually."

"Did she now?" Treize asked, wondering if he was misjudging his old friend – it was possible that she'd genuinely been trying to help and had decided to show Zechs the kinder side of herself so few ever saw. "Like what?"

Zechs coloured and looked down at his feet again. "Just… things. She was really quite amusing, sort of, but I don't think you'd get it."

"Which almost certainly means I was the subject of her jokes, but never mind." Treize shrugged his bag more securely onto his shoulder and sighed softly. "Let me ask you this: Do you stand by what you said to me in my office? Do you really think I was being hypocritical? Think about it before you answer me," he added quickly, before Zechs could speak, "and forget any notions of propriety. I want the truth, whatever that is."

Zechs suddenly went from rather flushed to very pale, and he riveted his gaze to the ground again. "I…suppose so," he murmured.

"You 'suppose so'? Do you or don't you? You meant it or you didn't, Zechs."

"I meant it," Zechs admitted. "I'm not sure I had the right to say it, but I meant it."

"Would you still mean it now?"

"If… if you were to say the same things to me, yes."

Treize stopped walking and turned to face the younger man. "Why?" he asked.

"Sorry?"

"Why? Lils agreed with you – it was almost the first thing she said to me when I'd done telling her what had happened – but I don't understand it."

Zechs stared at the older man, wondering what to say. "Are you serious?" he managed after a moment or two, then shook his head. "That didn't come out right." He sighed. "It's just… Treize, you sat in my room that morning and told me that what happened in your bedroom and who it happened with were none of my business, but then seemed determined to make what happens in mine, yours."

Treize shook his head. "There are differences in the circumstances," he countered.

"I thought you might say that," Zechs acknowledged, interrupting before Treize could finish what he'd been about to say. "Try this then: You told me at lunch in that restaurant that you were younger than I am now when you lost your virginity, but apparently I'm too young to know what I'm doing – 'barely more than a child' you called me, which isn't true and we both know it!"

Seeing Treize about to open his mouth to object again, Zechs carried on in a rush, hitting the point which had really galled him. "You think it's okay for you to carry on an adulterous affair with Valadin – which could have disastrous consequences if it were discovered by the wrong people – but you still have the sheer nerve to lecture me on my behaviour because I happen to enjoy a few casual encounters with an acquaintance of mine! I'm single, Treize! I've given my word of honour to no-one! How can you make that all right in your head? Why can't you see that hypocritical was the least of what I could have called you?!"

Treize's midnight eyes had widened noticeably as Zechs spat the last of his speech at him and, as the boy came to a finish, the officer shook his head dazedly and sat down rather heavily on a nearby tree-stump. "Do you really see it that way?" he asked, stunned. "What is it you would have called me, then?"

Zechs closed his eyes, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, I rather think it does," the instructor disagreed, but he sounded far from as though he meant it. "Oh, ouch, Illia," he added softly a moment later, revealing more with the slip into his old play-on-Russian childhood nickname for the pilot – unused for years – than he intended. "When I said I wanted you to be honest…"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I asked you to tell me. You're entitled to your opinion, just as I am. I simply wasn't expecting you to think so little of me, that's all."

Zechs gave a bitter little laugh. "Oddly enough, that's pretty much how I've felt for the last week or so. When did you start thinking so little of me? What did I do?"

Treize watched the other boy warily, alarmed by some of the shades in his tone of voice, and wondered how to answer him. He well knew how much damage a careless reply could do.

Liliya had made the point, when Treize had finished pouring out what had happened to her, that both he and Zechs seemed to idolise the other to some degree, often using each other as a yardstick against which they measured themselves, and whilst Treize could privately admit that was certainly true, he had been surprised the Major had noticed.

It was, he supposed, somewhat obvious in Zechs's case. Treize was the measure against which he judged his success or failure as a soldier, Treize's the achievements he set himself to beat. Prince Milliardo had patterned his alter-ego, Zechs Marquise, on his rescuer's son, seeing in the confident, clever older boy an antidote to the defenceless, terrified child the fall of the Sanc Kingdom had left him as.

In Treize's case though, things were more subtle. Almost four and a half years older then his friend, Treize had always been ahead in terms of academic accomplishment and the progress of his career and likely would be for some time to come. For him, Zechs represented a more elusive, yet more vital gauge – a standard against which Treize could judge his own personal integrity. Faced with the ruin of his life, Zechs had found the strength of will – not only to survive – but to retain his identity, his perception of his own royalty and the requirements that entailed, his unswerving drive to right the wrongs dealt to his country. It was against that unbreakable child-King that Treize set the standard of his own nobility, against Zechs's that he judged the quality of his own mettle and make.

An accusation of dishonour from just about anyone else Treize would have dismissed as not worth his attention, but from Zechs – though he hadn't actually said it aloud – it stung, and badly.

Still, Treize knew there were things that Zechs didn't understand, factors the boy was too young to comprehend that would undoubtedly have affected his judgment had he known them, nor was it as though Treize had been unaware that his affair with Valadin made him less than true to his marriage vows. Zechs's words had wounded his feelings, perhaps dinted his pride a little, but it was hardly a crippling blow.

"Treize? Is it _that_ bad?" Zechs asked, forcing the little laugh that accompanied it.

Treize blinked at the question, jerked from his line of thought. "I don't think that little of you, Zechs," he reassured warmly. "I certainly never intended to make you think that I did. I was simply… worried about you, frightened for you – perhaps a little disappointed with you, if I'm entirely honest – and I… reacted badly. Blame it on surprise, if you like, or shock, on top of a very tiring day."

Zechs kept his head bowed but Treize caught the tremor that passed through him. "Thank you, Treize," he started, apparently accepting the teacher's words. "That's what Major Valadin told me you'd say." He looked up abruptly, and Treize could see his eyes were stormy. "But I thought we were out here so we could speak the truth to one another?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

_Mid-June AC 192_

_Khushrenada Ancestral Estate – Moscow_

Treize walked away from the bathroom fuming, fighting twinned feelings of disgust and disappointment. Almost two years since the subject of Zechs's nightlife had become an issue between them and they were still no closer to an acceptable resolution than they had been that day at Lake Victoria.

Zechs's accusation that Treize was lying to him had prompted one of the most soul-destroying conversations the older man had ever been a part of. Knowing his every word was hurting his younger friend, Treize had been forced by his own wish for honesty between them to tell Zechs that no, he didn't believe he was being hypocritical in his attitude to the cadet's off-duty activities. Trying to make an analogy between that and Treize's affair with Valadin was spurious in the extreme and about as ridiculous – the defence of someone in an indefensible position.

They'd both managed to wound each other badly over the topic in the end and although they'd eventually agreed to disagree and stay off the subject in future, as time wore on the poison from those wounds was spreading to other things, souring what had once been an unshakeable friendship.

It had always been a matter of interpretation, Treize supposed, cringing a little as the sound of Zechs retching again carried from bathroom behind him, as to which of them had the more cause for complaint. Zechs had never, contrary to the older man's expectations that day, changed his opinion about Treize sleeping with women other than his wife. He maintained that it was deceitful and dishonourable, and had shown just once or twice with his actions that he no longer entirely trusted his friend, or regarded his sworn word as reliable. Rare as that happened, it still stung every single time.

Treize himself, on the other hand, still couldn't bring himself to approve of Zechs's time in the clubs he visited with increasing regularity – or of the frequent overindulgence in strong alcohol and other recreational drugs that usually accompanied it – and Zechs had, right from the start, translated this to mean that Treize didn't approve of him, or of the fact that he was gay. It was a blow his fragile psyche couldn't really deal with and he reacted either with searing anger, or sinking depression.

Treize reflected wearily that he was glad Zechs's recent appointment as an Academy Instructor meant that, when their current leave was over, they'd no longer have to deal with each other every day.

Then he closed his eyes, hating himself just for thinking it. As alarmingly high-maintenance as Zechs was, he was good friend and a better combat officer. Treize was sure he was going to miss having the boy at his side.

He sighed softly as he reached the door to the morning room and his abandoned breakfast, putting one hand out automatically to open it and freezing, a scowl crossing his face, as he realised he could still hear Zechs throwing up.

As hung-over as his clubbing usually left him, if one didn't count the first time Treize had caught him, Zechs had never been this ill. Treize was more than familiar with the pattern of symptoms and this wasn't it. The boy was always sick as a dog on first waking but once he was past that first violent reaction, the queasiness usually subsided, even if the headache lingered. For the pilot to still be this nauseous meant that there was something wrong.

Wondering suddenly, and with more than a little alarm, if Zechs had been right to suspect that someone had spiked one of his drinks, Treize let go of the door and turned on his heel to go and comm. call Otto to see if he'd seen anything, and then to find his wife. Leia had been a nurse when Treize had first met her and her rarely-used professional skills might well be needed if Zechs's drink had been doctored with something.

It wasn't, after all, an unreasonable assumption – and it certainly wouldn't be the first time.

************************

_December 21__st__ AC 190_

_Entebbe International Airport_

"Flight 163, you are clear for take off."

Treize listened with approval from the co-pilot's chair as Zechs signed off from his exchange with the Air Traffic Control Tower and turned his head to glance over his shoulder at Otto, checking that the boy was correctly strapped in.

It wasn't really a necessary check – Otto was a final year Specials cadet, after all – but it was force of habit.

The boy didn't seem to notice; he had his attention firmly fixed on the back of Zechs's blond head, a small frown between his eyebrows. Whatever he was thinking about, Otto must have solved the puzzle because a second later his shook his head and smiled to himself a little.

Treize turned back to his controls before Otto noted him looking and readied himself to give Zechs co-pilot assistance during take-off – not that it was likely Zechs would need it.

The little custom-built jet tore along the runway and then up into the air, responding to the blonde's deft hand like a prize stallion, leaving Treize smiling quietly as the flight levelled off, and Otto grinning wildly.

"Still fun?" Treize asked Zechs quietly.

The cadet smiled and nodded. "Thanks," he added.

"You're welcome. Why don't you give me the controls and take Otto back into the cabin for a couple of hours. I'll shout when I want one of you to take over."

Zechs nodded again, flicking the switch that would give Treize sole control of the plane and then unstrapping himself. He indicated Otto should do the same with a flick of his head, and the two boys disappeared through the little hatch into the main body of the plane.

***********************

"I meant to thank you for inviting me earlier, love," Otto began, almost completely randomly, as the two cadets settled themselves into two of the lounge-like chairs in the small cabin. "Where's the estate again? Russia, somewhere, did you say?"

Zechs smiled gently, letting the other boy know he hadn't missed the blatant attempt to start a conversation. "I didn't invite you; Treize did. He invited Noin as well but she didn't want to leave her mother alone this year." He grimaced, reminding Otto that their classmate was facing her first Christmas without her father, then shrugged lightly. "And, as I must have told you about a hundred times by now," he continued, "Treize's estate is just outside Moscow."

"You probably have, but I have an awful memory." Otto grinned cheerfully. "I might remember better if there was anything about Instructor Treize that seemed Russian. He's not like Major Valadin – he comes off almost as European as you or I. I'd thought he was French, or something."

"His mother _was_ French, so I suppose you weren't too wrong." Zechs shrugged. "He'll seem Russian whilst we're at the estate, I promise. He's a completely different person away from the military."

Otto watched the blonde's face soften and resisted the urge to sigh in sympathy. Not for the first time, he wondered if Zechs had discovered that he was in love with the Instructor yet – and whether it was a factor in his strange behaviour over the last six weeks if he had. There was no way for Otto himself to raise the subject without asking outright and, if Zechs _didn't_ know, then Otto certainly didn't want to draw his attention to it. It would be better – far better – if the blond never worked out that his feelings for the officer were more than those of the younger brother Treize regarded him as.

"Goes native, then, does he?" Otto asked impishly, keeping Zechs's thoughts on the mundane for the moment.

"Completely," Zechs agreed. "Wait till you hear him chattering away to Marie and then tell me he doesn't come off Russian."

"He doesn't have the accent," Otto pointed out, wondering who Marie was. Zechs had mentioned her a few times. "Not like Vlad does."

"He does, when he's speaking Russian. You're just used to hearing his public-speaking-officer-giving-orders voice, that's all. He sounds French when he speaks in that language too. Curse of growing up multi-lingual."

"French? Oh, right, you said his mother was French. He learnt it from her, then?"

"Yes." Zechs smiled suddenly, the expression affectionate. "I had the strangest conversations with him and his parents when I was younger. We'd be talking about the same thing but in three different languages at the same time. Treize would switch between Russian, French and English from sentence to sentence, depending on whom he was addressing. Totally confusing – I still don't know how he did it."

Otto grimaced. "Urgh, sounds brain-melting. I'll stick to English for the Academy and German at home, thanks." He tilted his head and grinned as something occurred to him. "You're a Brit, then?" he quizzed. "I hadn't thought of that…."

Zechs glared at his room-mate from behind his darkened glasses. "Oh, God, not this again!" he sighed, just barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation.

"Well, you can't blame me for being curious, hon. You're so bloody secretive that it's like an engraved invite to try to puzzle you out. You don't look much of an English Rose, I have to say – more Nordic, if you ask me – but I don't suppose that matters. Well?"

"Well what?" Zechs demanded, a bite to his voice as he was caught between outrage and amusement. Otto's questions should have been ringing alarm bells all over the place – his prying was dangerous, when it came down to it – but he was so affable and so genuinely a decent, friendly person that it was impossible, as it always had been, for Zechs to rebuff him as he should have.

"Well, are you British?" Otto repeated, his eyes bright with eager curiosity.

"And just why would you think that?" Zechs retaliated as he realised his friend wasn't going to be swayed. It was easier – and more distracting in the end – if he made a game of Otto's inquisitiveness. There was some merit to the brunette's statement that the more closed Zechs was about his past, the more he drew attention to the fact that there was something about it that was important.

"You said Treize spoke to you in English. He was addressing his parents in their native tongues so I'm assuming he was doing the same with you, therefore your first language must be English. You aren't American, you aren't Australian or Canadian. You could be from somewhere obscure, I suppose but given that you've joined the Specials and that your noble rank is baron, it's much more likely that you're British. Am I right?"

"No." Zechs told him flatly. "Not even close." He smiled as Otto's face fell. "I don't think I've had anyone British in my bloodline for about four or five generations."

"But…!"

Zechs let his smile become a grin. "I learned English the same way you did, probably, because it's the international standard. It just happens that Treize can't speak my first language at all, I couldn't really speak Russian at the time and I still don't know much French."

"Oh." Otto looked disappointed for a second but then his infectious grin was back. "I suppose I'll just have to keep on guessing then. It's no bad thing." He shot Zechs an openly speculative, seductive glance. "I do so love mysterious men."

**************************

_December 21__st__ AC 190_

_Moscow Airfield_

"Papa! Pri'vet, Papa!"

Otto heard the child's high, clear voice long before he identified its source.

The small arrivals lounge at the airfield just outside Moscow where Treize had directed their flight was busy – probably because of the weather, Otto mused. Certainly, the feet of snow and biting wind were nothing you'd want to be standing around in whilst waiting for your nearest and dearest.

Zechs had explained to Otto that their party would be met in the lounge but he hadn't said who by, leaving his classmate to assume it would be a driver only, or a butler. It was, therefore, a complete surprise to Otto when both of the men with him snapped their heads round at the piercing call and began making their way in its general direction.

"Pri'vet, Papa!"

The call came again, followed by a flood of meaningless babble – the trade mark of a happy, excited child – and Otto watched as Zechs and Treize exchanged a fond grin.

"You do know this means you aren't going to get a minute's peace, don't you?" Zechs asked softly.

Treize shrugged elegantly. "Of course I am. I'll just hand her off to you when I've had enough. She'll be just as happy to babble at you as me."

"Pri'vet, Papa!"

As the crowd stepped aside for the three of them, Otto could see that the child voicing the shouts was a red-haired moppet being held in the arms of a tall young woman. Her wide blue eyes were sparkling with excitement, her tiny hands stretched out towards them as they came closer.

"Papa! Papa!"

Treize let his duffle slide from his shoulder and put it into the hand Zechs had just extended, before reaching out and taking hold of the child. "Hello, Maryusha!" He swung the little girl into his arms, making her giggle. "Kak ty pozhivaesh, mila?"

Otto couldn't help but stare as the girl threw her arms around his teacher's neck and squeezed as hard as she could.

"She's been fine, Treize. Completely over-excited all day, of course, but fine. How was the flight?"

"I let Zechs pilot – how do you think it was?" Treize replied, shifting the child onto one arm so he could lean over and drop a fleeting kiss onto the woman's smooth cheek. "How have you been?"

"Busy. You know what the run-up to Christmas is like."

"Next year will be worse, I promise you that."

"I know. Your birthday. I'm not looking forward to it." She smiled up at the officer warmly, shaking back blonde curls as she did. "Still, at least we're organised for this year now."

"Ah, as wonderful as always, Leia. What would I do without you?"

"Stay on base all Christmas," Zechs interrupted, "and work. Hello, Leia."

"Zechs!"

Feeling a little lost and more than a little confused, Otto watched as his normally reserved bunkmate received and returned a hug full of warm affection.

"Well?" Leia demanded of the blond when he let her go. "Are my Christmas presents any good this year?"

Zechs smiled wickedly, but Treize interrupted him before he could answer. "If by that, my dear, you mean did I follow him around the shops like a good little boy and buy exactly what he told me to, then yes, they should be."

"Oh, excellent." She smiled at Zechs again. "I knew I could count on you."

"As long as you returned the favour?"

Leia laughed softly. "I'm not telling you. You'll have to wait till Christmas morning!"

"That's mean of you," Zechs protested, then turned and beckoned Otto closer. Catching one hand into Otto's sleeve, he drew him forward until he was standing by the blonde's side. "Leia, this is Otto Maxillian, my room-mate. Otto, this is Leia Barton, Duchess Khushrenada."

Otto didn't miss the glance Leia and Treize shared at the way Zechs had introduced him and, in fact, was grateful for it because it gave him a moment to get past the shock of Leia's full name. Until Zechs had called her Duchess Khushrenada, Otto had been assuming she was Treize's sister. There had never been any hint that his instructor was married!

He pulled himself together in time to take her hand as she offered it and kiss the back of it as he was supposed to. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Duchess," he murmured.

"Leia, please, Mr. Maxillian." She smiled warmly. "Being called Duchess makes me feel positively old."

"Otto, then. It would be an honour."

Mariemeia, who had been watching the proceedings from the comfort of Treize's arms, chose that moment to make a grab for Zechs's hair with one hand. "Pretty!" she exclaimed.

"Ouch!" Zechs freed his mane and turned to look at her, taking off his sunglasses. "Hello, trouble."

The girl gave another excited giggle as he apparently became recognisable and began squirming. Treize chuckled and shifted his hold on her to pass her to the younger man. "Ah, I should have known. I'm only interesting until she sees you."

"Sorry, Treize." Zechs settled the child against himself and looked down at her. "Hi, Marie," he murmured and Otto didn't think he'd ever seen his roommate look so open.

"Pretty!" Marie insisted, grabbing for Zechs's hair again. "I-lli-a," she added, pronouncing each syllable carefully, then hugged Zechs with as much force as she had Treize.

Zechs held her to himself automatically, staring down at her in shock for a moment before he looked up at Leia. "What did she say?" he asked softly.

Leia smiled at him. "Illia." She shrugged. "I had to teach her to call you something, and her attempts at 'Zechs' were… unfortunate, to say the least." She giggled, then sobered. "You don't mind, do you? It's only that Treize has called you that once or twice…."

"No, it's fine." He looked down at the little girl again, smoothing down her short, vivid hair with one hand.

Treize gave him a moment, then cleared his throat, shooting Otto a heavy glance before he spoke. "Are we done here?" he asked, reaching down to pick up both his bag and Zechs's.

"Certainly," Leia agreed. She fell into step at his side as he began to weave his way back through the crowds.

"If I'd known it was going to be this busy, I would have told you to wait at home," Treize commented as they gained the clear air of the corridor.

"I wouldn't have listened, and I don't think Marie would have let me. She likes watching the planes. I've brought her up here once or twice to watch them in the last few months. Flying must be in her blood."

Treize smiled. "Well, if it is, she'll have no shortage of people to indulge her as she gets older. She's already got Zechs wrapped around her little finger."

"And you," Leia added cheekily.

Treize shot a glance over his shoulder at the two cadets, checking that they were following and that they had Mariemeia with them, then looked down at his wife and smiled at her gently. "That would be you, my love, not your daughter," he murmured.

Leia blushed a touch and looked down at her feet as they walked.

Behind the Instructor, Otto caught the comment and smiled to himself as he looked over at his friend. The blond still had Mariemeia in his arms and was occasionally untangling her hands from his hair as they walked, jouncing her up and down every so often to make his giggle.

"This would be the Marie you've been talking about lately, then?" Otto asked. "I was starting to think you'd gone straight on me, angel."

"That's hardly likely, is it?" Zechs shook his head. "This would be Marie."

"You didn't tell me the Instructor was married. Or that he had a child."

Zechs glanced up. "He doesn't tell many people, to be honest, so neither do I. Besides I wanted to see your face."

"Did I give you the reaction you were looking for, then?"

"Oh, yes," the blond snorted. "Priceless."

"Glad I could amuse you, love." Otto mock-glared at the blond, and then grinned. "How old's this little sweetheart, then?"

"Eighteen months, almost to the day. This is a… busy time of year for the family. It's Treize's wedding anniversary in a few days."

Otto raised an eyebrow. "Oh. And his birthday, from what Leia was saying in the waiting room."

Zechs nodded. "Christmas Eve, both of them."

"He doesn't look old enough to have been married for three years," Otto offered hesitantly.

"Two years," Zechs corrected absently. "He met Leia when he was shepherding Noin's group through their initial field exercise back in first year."

"Oh." Otto gave it a moment, then added, "Oops. Nice to know he's as human as the rest of us."

Zechs shot him a puzzled look. "What? Oh," he added as understanding dawned, "right. Yes. Well. It's a long story."

"I imagine it must be," Otto murmured, knowing he wouldn't get anything else out of the blond right now. There were ways, though, with Zechs and the brunette was of the impression that he might have to employ them later. He was dying of curiosity now, after all.

* * *

"_Pri'vet, Papa!"_ = 'Hello (Hi!), Papa!'

"_Hello, Maryusha. Kak ty pozhivaesh, mila?" _= 'Hello, Maryusha (pet-name version of Marie). How have you been, darling?'


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_December 21__st__ AC 190_

_Khushrenada Ancestral Estate – Moscow_

If Otto had been wondering just exactly what Treize and Leia thought he was to Zechs after the look they had given each other at the airfield, then all doubt had been removed as soon as he saw the room he had been given for his stay. The elegantly appointed suite was right next door to the rooms Zechs had confirmed were his, and was actually connected directly through their bedrooms by a door that Otto quickly established had been left unlocked by someone.

Sat on Zechs's bed just before they retired for the night, watching the blonde brush out his hair, Otto had raised his suspicions with his friend, feeling he deserved to be warned. When Otto had asked if Zechs was aware of what was happening, and had commented that the two of them were being treated as a couple, Zechs had just laughed at him – and then laughed harder when Otto explained that his room assignment was just proof.

Zechs's, 'I'll have to tell Treize you said that! That was _his_ room till a couple of years ago!' had been both a relief and a new point of worry for the other cadet, but he'd rallied fast enough to wonder, voice all innocence, just why Zechs and Treize had needed a connection to each other's bedrooms.

Zechs had sobered fast at that, for no reason that Otto could see, and had replied only with, 'His mother thought it would be a good idea.'

He'd bid his classmate a terse good night not long after, leaving Otto to retire to his own bed and fall into a restless sleep.

*****************************

_December 22__nd__ AC 190_

_Khushrenada Ancestral Estate – Moscow_

"Good morning, Otto."

The cadet pulled himself from his thoughts to look up as he crossed the threshold into the little morning room, silently cursing himself for not realising that there was anyone already in it.

It was horribly early but Otto had always been an early riser and two and a half years at a military academy had only made that tendency worse. In combination with the time difference between Moscow and Lake Victoria, the cadet supposed he should have known he wouldn't sleep well.

He hadn't expected anyone else to be in the same boat with him, but there was Treize, watching him from behind whatever he'd been reading, washed and groomed and dressed as though he'd been awake for hours.

"Good morning, sir," Otto returned politely, wondering whether he should beat a quick retreat.

The instructor lifted an eyebrow. "Treize, please. We're both off-duty and you are a guest. Would you like coffee?"

The younger man watched as his teacher rose to his feet and made for the table under the window, ruffling the drapes enough as he walked that Otto could see it was still dark outside. "Do you take sugar?" Treize asked and Otto shook his head automatically. "Cream?"

"Uh, no, thank you."

"Rather you than me, then." Treize gave a shudder of disgust. "It's from you Zechs got this habit then?" he asked as he handed the boy a mug of steaming black liquid.

"Ah, the other way around, actually. He got me addicted when we were revising for finals last year. I think he got it from Noin – the girl lives off espresso."

"Right. Italian. I should have known." Treize flashed him a quick smile. "Well, it's nice to know the source – I was starting to think my entire cadet class were caffeine addicts."

The smile warmed and Otto chuckled in spite of himself. "We probably are, sir. It's all the assignments the teaching staff keep giving us. We don't have enough time to sleep!"

The second eyebrow joined the first as Treize refilled his own cup with lazy movements. "You have no concept, cadet," he murmured. "You just wait until after Christmas. I speak from experience when I say you won't know what's hit you." Treize laughed softly. "I suggest you enjoy Christmas. I can promise you won't Easter."

"Oh dear," Otto sighed. "You aren't going to be too mean to us, sir, are you?"

The laugh took on a wicked edge. "Would I?" Treize asked sweetly and Otto swallowed, only half for effect.

The older man gave him a moment to stew, then sat down again, gesturing that the cadet should join him. He used the move to change the subject and looked at Otto shrewdly from over the rim of his own coffee cup. "Did Zechs sleep well?" he asked.

"I assume so," Otto replied.

"You 'assume so'? You don't know?"

The cadet shrugged. "Should I? I know when he went to bed, I know there was no light from under his door when I walked past it and I know he isn't in here with you, which is where I'd expect him to be if he was awake."

"Not necessarily," Treize said softly, then looked back at Otto. "Forgive me, I've been treating you as though…."

"Zechs and I are a couple, I know. I'd worked that out for myself." Otto sipped his coffee, then squared his shoulders, putting away his affable, slightly camp personality in favour of the more serious side he used for his training. He'd found, when they'd talked at the Academy, that Treize responded better to it. "Can I ask why? I'm sure Zechs has told you that we aren't, and I know I did."

Treize shrugged. "It's an easier explanation for Leia, for one. I understand the idea of needing a physical vent, but she, as you might expect, would not." The older man sighed suddenly. "It might also be wishful thinking on my part, I suppose," he admitted, surprising the both of them with the confession.

Otto coughed. "You want me as his partner?" he asked, surprised. He hadn't thought his teacher was especially fond of him, however much Treize had treated him as a fellow adult when they'd talked at the Academy.

"I want him stable and reasonably happy, that's all," Treize corrected. "And I don't think screwing around in those clubs will give him either of those things."

"That's a matter of opinion, sir," Otto replied tactfully, shrugging tightly and thinking hard as he tried to phrase why he disagreed with that statement. It was true that 'happy' probably wasn't something that would ever come out of the cadets' visits to the clubs, but Otto had seen Zechs up close both before and after their little jaunts and there was no doubt in the brunette's mind that he was more mellow for it. "It…relaxes him," he explained. "Within limits, I actually think it's good for him."

Treize nodded, but his face still showed his disapproval. "Whilst that might be true – as I said, I understand the need for physical relief – the real question is whether he will stay within those limits." He shook his head. "I doubt it, Otto. He's not good at following rules, or at taking care of himself."

Without doubt, this was one of the more bizarre situations Otto had been in his short life. Discussing his roommate's sex life with a man who happened to be their mutual teacher and Zechs's legal guardian besides had not been on the cadet's list of things to do for the day when he woke up that morning! He took a mouthful of his coffee as he lapsed into thought again. "As I told you last time we spoke," he started finally, "that would be why I keep him company." He frowned slightly. "I watch out for him as best I can, sir."

Treize nodded, acknowledging the truth of that. The conversation the two of them had shared, a day or so after he'd dragged the two cadets from the night club had been enlightening and informative as to Otto's character in general and as to his feelings and intentions towards Zechs specifically. "I'm sure you do, Otto," he confirmed, "but will you always be able to? There's no guarantee that you'll be posted anywhere near each other when you graduate – what would happen then? Have you thought of that? Or of what will happen when he, inevitably, wants to try something that you can't be there to see?" Treize gave the younger man a knowing, demanding look. "Losing his virginity to a stranger is a knock I'd rather he didn't take. It would be hurtful for him."

Otto looked down, fixing his eyes on the tabletop to keep from having to look at his teacher, swallowing slowly before speaking. "I know that, sir," he said quietly. "From personal experience, as it happens."

Treize gave it a moment, looking at his student with gentle eyes as some things he'd been wondering about clicked into place and some more new questions raised their heads. "Indeed," he commented, keeping his voice absolutely level "You know where I am, then," he added softly, motivated by both professional and parental instinct.

The instructor waited until a flashing glance from grateful brown eyes had made it clear that Otto had understood the implied offer of a listening ear or a supportive hand should he need it, and then he continued. "Would you answer a question for me, Otto?" Treize asked.

"Of course, sir," Otto answered immediately.

"Thank you. I've heard several different opinions of how I handled Zechs in this, and so far, not a one of them has been any use in determining my next step with him. You're roughly the same age as him, your circumstances are similar. Would you mind telling me – in his position, what would you want from me?"

Otto bit his lip, suddenly realising that his teacher was talking to him as an equal, was asking his advice. "I'd want…" he took a deep breath. "I'd want you not to care, to be honest. For it not to be an issue, not to matter. I've…I've seen how much weight Zechs gives your opinion of him. If he starts to believe that you have a problem with his being gay, the damage to him could be…."

Treize nodded, cutting the cadet off. "I can only imagine. I've made it quite clear on several occasions – I've simply told him when it comes down to it – that it _isn't_ a problem. He seems to be having trouble believing it, though."

"That's probably a result of what happened in the club, if I might be blunt, sir. Your reaction wasn't… exactly friendly."

"My reaction was to the circumstances and those specific events!" Treize fired back, heat colouring the words more than he would have wanted.

"Is there a difference?" Otto asked, so quietly that Treize almost missed it. "Please forgive me for saying this, sir – I know it's horribly rude of me – but can you honestly say you would have been quite so outraged if you'd caught Zechs picking up a random woman in the back room, rather than Sebastian?"

Treize's shoulders stiffened and his eyes narrowed a touch at the cadet's question but he covered the reaction well and settled for levelling a cool look at the boy instead. "This may well be a surprise for you, Otto, but yes, I would have been. My issues with Zechs's behaviour that night have nothing to do with the gender of his partner. They stem from the fact that he was putting himself at risk in more ways than one, both professionally and personally, by being in that club – and that is all they stem from! I would have just as much problem with him picking up random women as I do random men. Neither is a way of life renowned for being safe!"

The younger man looked a little taken aback but he rallied well, taking a deep breath before asking, "Is that why you wish the two of us were a couple? Because it would be safer?"

"Safer, yes. For both of you." Treize gave Otto a little half smile. "You'd probably find it more rewarding, as well. There's a lot to be said for a partner who knows you."

"I'm sure there is but… Sir, Zechs and I are friends, I don't think we'll ever be anything else, and trying to force it…." He shook his head. "He's not likely to suddenly fall in love with me, sir."

"Why does he need to?" Treize asked, noting the interesting phrasing on that last statement. "You care for each other, you obviously find each other attractive. Why does it need to be anything more? Both you and Zechs have been at pains to explain to me that the two of you are nothing more than friends that just happen to end up in bed together occasionally. Zechs tells me it's because, as he phrased it, 'it's comforting sometimes and it feels nice'. I have no issue with that – why should I have? It's a perfect solution to a lot of problems in some ways." Treize shrugged. "What I don't understand is where the harm would be in expanding that? Why does either of you feel the need to seek out strangers?"

Otto could feel himself blushing, and he found himself wondering whether Treize had put Zechs through this conversation. "Sir, I…." He stopped, let himself breathe for a moment or two, and then tried again. "We… have rules, sir," he explained. "About what we can and can't do together. As a… safety measure, of sorts, I suppose. What you're suggesting…" He shook his head. "Don't you see that it would be very easy for the two of us to slip from being 'just friends' to being something we can't afford to be? We're both in the military and the military does not approve of fraternisation between its officers. Especially when both parties are male. And, you said it yourself earlier, sir – In six months time I could be posted halfway around the world from Zechs and never see him again."

Treize nodded. "True, but I still think it would be preferable for both of you. Think about it," he encouraged, then stood up, moving back towards the table under the window to top his cup up again. "To get back to my original point," he continued as he sat down again, "did Zechs wake you at any point last night?"

Otto frowned, confused. "No, sir…. Should he have?"

"Hopefully, no, but it was a possibility. Have you noticed the door connecting your rooms yet?"

Otto coloured immediately but he forced his voice to stay level. "Yes, sir. I, ah, I thought…."

"I can imagine," Treize chuckled dryly. "Has Zechs told you that the rooms you're in used to be mine yet, then?"

"He mentioned it, yes," Otto replied. "And when I asked him why the two of you needed a door like that," he added, to tease as much as he dared, "he said that your mother thought it would be a good idea for you to be able to get to him. He wouldn't tell me why."

"She did, and it was." Treize shrugged. "Has he really managed to get through the last two and half years without waking you in the middle of then night once, then?"

Comprehension dawned for the cadet. "No, sir," he answered softly. "If you mean his nightmares…?" he asked, feeling a little sick at the thought of the screaming night terrors he'd seen his classmate wake from occasionally. Zechs had never even offered to explain what they were about but in the past few months he'd let Otto hold him when he woke and the chill sweat on the blonde's skin and the way his whole body shook had been enough to convince the other cadet that he probably didn't want to know in any case.

Treize nodded slowly. "I didn't think you would have missed those," he replied softly. "They were worse when he was younger, much worse. There were weeks at a time when he simply couldn't sleep. My parents discovered early on that I had a…knack for calming him down. Their solution, in the end, was to move him into the room next to mine so that I would be able to hear him and go to him if he needed it. I'll confess now that I gave you my old rooms for much the same reason. He's had a rough few weeks and the next few days are likely to be tough for him."

Otto nodded, realising that at least part of the reason Treize had invited him here for Christmas was to play comforter to Zechs, and, oddly, discovering that it didn't bother him in the slightest. "I'll keep an ear open, then."

"Thank you." Treize stretched slowly, and then glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Now, if you'll be so good as to go and roust him out of bed, I'll find my staff and ask them to see to breakfast."

******************************

Zechs scrambled from under his sheets, rubbing sleep-bleary eyes when Otto pounced on his bed, calling his name. "What time is it?" he asked, raking his hands back through the tangled weight of his hair.

"Late enough that Treize sent me to get you up, angel. Get a move on, I'm hungry."

"So, go and eat. I want to wash my hair before breakfast."

Otto gave Zechs's mass of hair an analytical look. "It looks fine. Do it later. Come on!"

Zechs rolled his eyes. "Fine. Anyone would think you hadn't eaten for days!"

"I've been up and waiting for you for hours, love! I think Treize was getting afraid to feed me any more coffee."

Zechs stuffed himself into a clean t-shirt and trousers and picked his hairbrush up, stopping with it halfway to the first strands. "Treize? Coffee? You've been with Treize?"

"Yes," Otto agreed, his attention on Zechs's wardrobe and the clothes he was rooting through. "I've never seen half of these before, hon. Are they yours?"

Zechs looked up from under his hair. "Yes. It's formal stuff, mostly. I don't have much use for it at the Academy so it stays here. I'll be wearing some of it for the Balls we'll be going to."

Otto ran his fingers over the rich-coloured fabrics, realising they were all very expensive. "You will?" he asked.

"Probably. I'll have to see what Treize does. If he keeps to his walking out or mess uniforms, then I'll stick with our Cadet Dress. If he thinks his Full Dress is necessary or he's out of uniform, I'll have to go civilian to match him. Our cadet uniforms just aren't up to the job."

Otto had been scowling but at that his expression became downright panicked. "They aren't?" he demanded. "You didn't think telling me this when I was packing would have been a good idea?!"

Zechs laughed at him, tying his hair back with a scrap of ribbon. "Oh, God, please don't go into one of your flaps! It's far too early."

"I don't flap!"

"Yes, you do."

"I do not!" Otto insisted, then let his face twist into a parody of distress. "But *what* am I going to *wear*!" he wailed, going as far as to bring his hands up to clutch at his temples.

"That's it!" Zechs exclaimed and tossed his hairbrush at the other boy.

Otto ducked, smothered his laughter and fixed the blonde with wounded eyes. "You're cruel! First you let me come to stay without anything like the proper wardrobe – if I look shabby I shall hold you to blame! – and now you're trying to beat me into submission! It won't work, I tell you!"

"I can hope!"

"Oh! The cruelty! Woe is me! What foul crimes must I have committed in a previous life to deserve such a harsh master?!"

Zechs levelled him a look, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Master?" he enquired. "Only if you ask nicely."

Otto froze in his pose of distress, staring at the blonde disbelievingly, then he reached behind him, scrabbling for the hairbrush that had landed on the bed. "You cheeky, little…!" he protested, brandishing the brush menacingly. "Come here so I can whack you!"

"Not a chance. You'll have to catch me first!" Zechs grinned madly, span on one heel and flung open his door to tear off down the corridor, leaving Otto to chase after him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_December 22__nd__ AC 190_

_Khushrenada Ancestral Estate – Moscow_

Treize looked up from the newspaper he was perusing and set his slice of toast down as he heard the commotion from the corridor – a clatter of running feet, shrieks and shouting that seemed to be coming steadily closer.

Wondering what the hell was happening to his house now, he got to his feet to go and investigate and froze where he was when the door to the room burst open and a blond-haired whirlwind cannoned through it.

The figure leaped the ornate antique couch with commendable athleticism and skittered around the table to duck behind Treize, leaving the teacher to look over his own shoulder in surprise.

"Zechs?" he asked, startled. "What are you doing?"

"Hiding from Otto," Zechs told him between breathless giggles. "He's threatening to beat me with my hairbrush!"

Treize felt his eyebrows rise without his conscious control but he managed to make his voice expressionless and level. "I'm sure I don't want to know why," he commented dryly.

There was another giggle. "Probably not," Zechs confessed.

"Well, I'll thank you to leave me out of it," Treize replied. "I would like to eat my breakfast in peace if I may."

Zechs grinned at him endearingly. "Uhm," he started and was cut off by Otto appearing in the doorway, breathing hard and brandishing the aforementioned hairbrush menacingly.

"You can't avoid me forever, love," he insisted, coming a pace or two into the room. "You might as well give it up and submit gracefully."

Treize snorted lightly. "And here I thought you knew Zechs, Otto," he murmured.

Otto shot him a blinding grin. "There is that. Would you mind terribly stepping aside, sir? I shouldn't like you to get caught in the cross-fire."

Treize smiled slightly at the formal phrasing and gave a single nod as he took a step to the side, out from his table and chair. "The consideration is appreciated, I assure you. I'm glad one of you is gentleman enough to keep innocent civilians out of the crossfire."

"Hey!" Zechs protested, straightening from his half crouch. A moment later, Otto shot him a wicked smirk, taking a first step towards him, and the blond yelped as he realised his cover was gone completely and that the other cadet was between him and the only door.

"That was a tactical error, Zechs," Treize commented, and then gave a rather undignified yelp himself as Zechs jumped the distance between them and grabbed the older man from behind.

"So was that," Zechs answered, his voice coming from directly beside Treize's ear as the younger man pinned his teacher against himself with a hand on his shoulder. A moment later, one strong arm wrapped around Treize's trim waist, severely limiting his range of movement. "You're no innocent," he murmured.

Treize felt sudden colour touch his cheek-bones as he became abruptly very aware of the pressure of the cadet's body against his own, the long-limbed slenderness of the teenager Zechs was and the lithe strength of the cadet. He wriggled a little, testing the hold he was in, and Zechs's grip only tightened.

For half a second, a swirl of feelings washed through Treize, making him struggle a little more, and then a new figure in the doorway of the room drew all eyes.

"What in Heaven's name is going on?" Leia asked, her eyes wide as she took in the scene, Zechs pinning Treize in front of him and Otto still waving the hairbrush.

"I seem to have been taken hostage, my love," Treize answered her, as smoothly as he could.

"Yes, but why?" Leia asked.

"You'll have to ask Zechs that I'm afraid."

The blond cadet shrugged. "Because now Otto can't get to me without getting you in the process and he won't risk that. Sorry, Treize."

"Dishonourable tactics," Otto pointed out, but he didn't make a further move.

Treize nodded. "I quite agree, Otto." He shot the cadet a warning look and then smiled slowly. "Mr Marquise, as your teacher I feel it my duty to point out something you seem to have forgotten," he added coolly.

"Oh?" Zechs asked. "What's that?"

A moment later, he shrieked as Treize gave a few deft twists, got a foot behind the boy's ankles and dumped him on his rear on the floor. "I'm no civilian, either." He straightened his rumpled shirt elegantly. "Otto, he's all yours. Leia, we may have to take our breakfast in another room, I'm afraid."

Leia was chuckling to herself as Treize crossed the room to her side, watching as Otto pounced on Zechs before he could scramble to his feet and began whacking him with the flat back of the brush. There were half a dozen pained shouts from the blond and then a sudden silence.

"Oh!" Leia exclaimed as Treize reached her. "So sweet," she whispered and the teacher turned his head to look back at the two younger men.

Zechs had caught Otto's wrist in a loose grasp, preventing the smaller cadet from hitting him with the brush anymore and had his other hand on the brunette's shoulder, keeping himself sat up. Otto was knelt half-up across Zechs's legs, almost in his lap, and his free hand was resting lightly on Zechs's cheek. They were gazing at one another raptly, blue eyes meeting brown intently, seeming to communicate something Treize couldn't even begin to guess at. A moment later, Zechs smiled softly and slid the hand on his companion's shoulder up into Otto's short curls, pulling his head down.

At Treize's side, Leia made another quiet, wordless noise as Otto leaned down and the two boys kissed lightly, their mouths meeting and lingering gently.

Treize flicked a glance down to his wife's face, wondering how she was taking the sight since she'd almost certainly never seen two men kiss in front of her before – it was quite possible, given her upbringing, that she'd never seen any other couple at all – and found himself both relieved and surprised by what he discovered.

Instead of the shock he'd expected and the disgust he'd feared, Leia's face showed nothing beyond a certain wistful affection as she watched the cadets deepen their embrace slowly. Curious, Treize put his hand on her shoulder and smiled when she turned to look up at him. "Something wrong, lyubimaya?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Leia shook her head, her face brightening at his address. Frequently as he called her 'my love' in casual conversation, he very seldom said it in his native tongue outside of those times he came to her bed and so it had come to mean more to her than it otherwise would have. She returned his smile and shook her head. "No, of course not, Treize." She glanced back at the two boys. "They are rather lovely together, aren't they?" she asked.

"You think so?"

"Oh, yes. It's quite charming."

The teacher turned his head to watch his ward and his roommate again, and suddenly found that he could see why Leia was so taken with it. In complete contrast to the first lustful, demanding kiss Treize had seen Otto and Zechs share, on the dance floor of the nightclub in Kampala all those weeks ago, this was a study in affection and care. Zechs had his eyes closed and his head back slightly, and Treize didn't think he'd ever seen the boy look more relaxed.

"See? It's adorable," Leia whispered and Treize focused his attention back on her.

"Quite," he answered. "Well, perhaps I should be taking lessons from my pupils in this matter then," he added softly, bent down a little and used gentle fingers to tilt her head so he could lean in and brush her lips with his.

Warm arms immediately curled around his neck as Leia melted into him, utterly yielding just as she always was. Treize let himself get lost in kissing her tenderly for a minute or so and then lifted his head to smile down at her lovingly.

Movement caught in the corner of one eye made the Instructor glance across the room again and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing aloud. Otto had flushed a brilliant shade of red and was desperately trying to look anywhere but at Treize and Leia, and Zechs was staring at the two of them with open shock.

Treize raised an eyebrow at his expression before realising that – discounting the traditional kiss at the end of the marriage ceremony – the boy had never seen Treize and Leia touch in any way more intimate than a close ballroom hold and the occasional loose embrace.

Deciding that he didn't care, Treize canted the blond a wicked, knowing smirk and touched his wife lightly on the shoulder. "Perhaps you should go through the little sitting room, love. I'll have the servants shift our breakfast things into there."

Leia nodded and turned to go immediately. Treize waited until she was well out of earshot and then looked back at Zechs levelly. Quietly, he spoke to the cadet in what Otto thought was Russian and then waited expectantly.

"Well?" he asked after a moment of silence from the blonde.

"Da," Zechs replied and immediately blushed harder than Otto had.

Treize nodded, turned on one heel and followed his wife out of the room.

Otto immediately rounded on his roommate. "What did he say to get you to go that shade, angel?" he demanded.

Zechs shook his head. "Nothing much. Just that, whilst he doesn't mind what just happened particularly, if anything else is likely to we should take it back upstairs to our rooms, for privacy's sake."

Otto shrugged. "Well, that's fair enough. Why's that got you turning colours?"

"It was more the way he phrased it…" Zechs admitted slowly.

"Which was…?"

"That he doesn't want to have to start giving his servants hush-money if they walk in on the two of us fucking."

Otto stared, then dissolved into helpless giggles.

**************************

Leia looked up at Treize from the little table by the window she'd seated herself at and smiled at him as he closed the door behind him. "Talking to Zechs?" she asked, wondering why he'd sent her ahead.

He nodded, his mouth touched by the first hints of a wicked smirk. "Merely warning the boys to moderate their behaviour in public. I don't want them getting caught by the help."

Leia nodded, but her smile warmed and she held her hand out to him, encouraging him to join her at the table. "I hope you weren't too harsh. It won't do them any harm to play and it was nice to see Zechs acting something close to his real age for once."

Treize sank into his chair gracefully and gave his wife a slow, surprised blink before he realised that the two of them were talking at cross-purposes. "Leia-love, I wasn't worried about them running around the corridors or beating each other with hairbrushes," he murmured. "That kind of horse play they're welcome to continue with just about anywhere they like – none of the house-staff will mind at all."

Treize watched as his wife frowned, her delicate eyebrows drawing together. "What then?" she asked, and then suddenly blushed. "Oh," she murmured. "You meant…. Oh." She bit her lip, dropping her soft blue eyes to the immaculate white tablecloth in discomfiture. "Do you really think they're… that involved? They're very young, Treize."

Treize shrugged lightly. "I don't know the exact details of their relationship, my love. I don't particularly want to, if I'm honest, but they aren't really so young, all things considered. Zechs is less than two years younger than I was when I first met you, after all."

"Yes, but still... you don't think they're too young?"

Treize gazed at his wife levelly for a moment, wondering how to explain his point without either revealing information that would hurt her or saying something that would offend. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "My love, do you remember, that night, asking me if I had any experience with women?" he asked, recalling the hesitant way the younger Leia had phrased the question, almost crippled by her embarrassment despite having drunk most of a bottle of red wine at that point. Treize hadn't known it at the time, of course, but it had been the start of the conversation that had led to him confessing how much he felt for her and, eventually, to him overriding all his upbringing and his common sense in order to take her to bed – taking her virginity and, as it had turned out, leaving her pregnant with their daughter.

Leia's fading blush returned in full measure as she nodded silently. "You said you…did," she answered him softly. "With one or two. I wasn't surprised," she added quickly.

Treize smiled at her gently, returning her nod. "Well, then, how old do you suppose I was with the first of them?" He caught her hand and squeezed it, preventing her from speaking when it looked as though she was going to. "Younger than Zechs is now," he told her quietly. "It's the Academy, my love," he explained as her eyes went wide with shock, "and the environment there. The Specials takes young teenagers and subjects them to one of the most intense training courses ever devised by a military unit, and it has its side-effects. Our cadets are usually no more than twelve or thirteen years old when they come to us but we expect them to behave as officers and adults from the moment they walk through the door whilst, at the same time, housing them in shared dorm-rooms and granting them less personal freedom than any boarding school ever has its pupils. There's no privacy for them anywhere and the whole place is a hot-house of constant pressure, and constant stress. They grow up fast or they wash out." Treize shrugged again, but it wasn't quite as casual a gesture this time, making Leia turn her hand in his and return the pressure. He smiled at her gratefully and continued, his voice a touch softer than it had been. "Senior students, like Zechs and Otto, are less than six months away from being thrown into actual combat and perhaps as little as a year from commanding troops in the field, making decisions that will affect who lives and who dies. They aren't children anymore – they can't afford to be – and in combination with a teenagers hormones, well…" he offered her an impish smile, "there's a reason we include contraceptive shots as a part of their routine physical exams, love."

Leia gave him a fleeting giggle at that, nodding. "I love Marie of course," she told him, "and I adore being your wife, but still… wouldn't things have been so much simpler if Officers were included in that program, as well as cadets," she teased.

Treize gave her a blank look. "We are included," he answered her, missing her sudden look of surprise, "unless we sign a refusal form." He gave her hand another squeeze. "Which reminds me…." he started.

Leia was frowning about something but she lifted her eyes to his immediately. "Yes?"

"I've been meaning to ask you to sit down with me so we can talk since I got home," Treize carried on, "but I just haven't had chance yet." He offered her a warm look and a smile. "If you're really sure you're ready for another pregnancy, I'd like to give some serious thought to us having another child. I really don't want Marie growing up alone and she's not really a baby anymore, is she?"

Leia nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sure," she answered quietly. "I feel ready and my physician agreed that there's no reason not to, when I asked him about it." She smiled at him for a moment. "I wouldn't have mentioned the idea to you if I wasn't serious and I don't like the idea of Marie being an only child anymore than you do. Besides," she continued, lowering her eyes to the tabletop, "I have a duty as your wife to give you at least one son, to carry on your family name and title."

The officer grinned at her suddenly, his expression charming and honest. "Well, I can't deny I like the idea of having a son," he confessed, "but I'll leave the final decision in your hands, of course. I think I already told you that Zechs doesn't mind of we inflict another God-child on him."

Leia laughed. "You did, but I could have told you he wouldn't without having to ask him. He's absolutely devoted to Marie." She blushed a little. "Until you told me you were bringing Otto home with you for Christmas, and why, I'd been wondering how long to leave it before I suggested you make Zechs a formal offer of betrothal for Marie."

"Zechs? And Marie?" Treize stared across the table at his wife. "You really thought…?"

Leia gestured lightly. "Well, obviously it's not going to happen now but it would have been a good match. There's no doubt she would have been in good hands, and it would have made him your son-in-law and an official part of the family, which I believe would have suited you both."

The officer nodded, taken completely off guard, and his wife gave him the impish little smile he so rarely saw but which had done so much to catch his attention in the first place, and which was the only outward indicator of the vivacious personality Leia had when she wasn't hampered by the weight of her upbringing and the awkwardness of the circumstances. "It would have been nice," Treize admitted.

"Well, then," Leia continued, "I'll just have to give you several sons, and you'll have to hope that one of them turns out gay, so we can pair him off with Zechs instead."

"What?!" Treize spluttered, then threw his head back and began laughing. "You women and your schemes…!" He got slowly to his feet and stepped out from his side of the table to go to his knees at the side of his wife's chair. "If it wouldn't be too bold of me to ask, then," he murmured, letting his laughter die in favour of conveying a much more serious emotion, "when would you like to start our attempts to breed Zechs the perfect mate?" He reached up and rested one hand gently on Leia's face. "I asked my physician to stop my shots back in October, so I can – whenever you're ready."

Leia looked away from him. "I can't tonight, I'm afraid. It's not… a good time… but before you go back to the Academy…? If you'd like…?"

Treize nodded. "Always, my love," he murmured and leaned in to kiss her.

Before the kiss could really deepen into what he wanted it to be, Leia put her small hands on his shoulders and pushed him away gently. The officer looked up at her, puzzled and then scowled as he took in the expression on her face. "Leia-love, what's the matter?" he asked.

"It's nothing, Treize, only… may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

The blonde woman opened her mouth to speak again, and stopped as the sound of running feet came echoing up the corridor, followed by desperate knocking on the door.

Before Treize could get to his feet and answer it, a flushed and panicked looking Otto appeared around it and snapped off a salute. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you," he panted, "but there's something wrong with Zechs!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Sixteen**

_December 22__nd__ AC 190_

Lepedev Estate – Moscow

Treize bowed gracefully to the wife of his host before leading her from the dance floor with a grateful sigh of relief. Duchess Ekaterina Lepedeva was a wonderful society hostess and had been a great friend of Treize's father, but she was a heavily built woman and had no talent as a dancer. Consequently, she'd stood on Treize's feet at least three times during the course of their waltz and it had hurt every single time.

She smiled at him as he thanked her for the dance and then raised one gloved hand to pat him lightly on the shoulder. "Your father used to say exactly the same thing to me after every single dance and he was trying not to wince at the same time too," she told him, laughing. "Most of the men avoid dancing with me now. There's really only you that will bother – manners or not." She chuckled. "Go on back to your lovely wife, my boy, and let your poor toes recover."

Treize had to smile back at her. "Dancing with you is an honour and a privilege, Aunt Katya," he replied, and then ducked as she whacked at him with the lace fan she was carrying from a strap around her wrist.

"Go on with you, child, and stop flattering an old lady."

Treize bowed to her again and turned to step away. Just as he was about to leave, the Duchess put out her hand and caught his arm. "Yes, Aunt Katya?" he asked, turning back to face her.

"Treize, tell me – who is that charming young man standing with your wife?" she asked, pointing discreetly with the fan. "A younger brother of hers?"

Treize looked across the room in the direction of her gesture and saw Leia, occupied with talking quietly with another of the local nobles and flanked on either side by Zechs and Otto, both spit-and-polished to perfection in their cadet Dress uniforms. "Which of them do you mean?" Treize asked.

Ekaterina scowled at him. "Why, the lovely blond, of course. I know who the other one is – I'd know Countess Adeline Maxillian's eyes anywhere in the world, even if she hadn't written to tell me he was staying with you for the Season."

Treize smiled suddenly. "The blond? No, he isn't Leia's brother. That's Zechs, Aunt Katya."

"Zechs?" The Duchess frowned. "I don't know that name…" Her eyes went wide. "Good heavens! Do you mean that adorable waif Kolya took under his wing? That's little Illia?" The old lady shook her head. "Good heavens!" she repeated. "How old is he now?"

"Fifteen, Aunty," Treize replied softly. "Sixteen in May. He's a final-year Cadet now. Otto is a classmate of his, as well as his friend."

Ekaterina gazed across the room at Zechs for a moment. "How time passes these days. The last time I saw that boy he was ten years old and singing in the spot you'd just left in the cathedral choir. Now you say he's almost an Officer himself?"

Treize nodded. "Yes. He'll graduate in June – most likely top of his class."

"See that he does," Ekaterina insisted suddenly, after looking at the cadets for another moment. "And then see to it that he sees that wonderful tailor of yours to design his own uniform. He's going to be a beautiful young man and those rags he's wearing are entirely the wrong colour and cut on him."

Treize raised an eyebrow at her insistence, running a critical eye over his ward and realising, with something akin to shock, that the old lady was exactly right. He'd never really stopped to notice how Zechs looked before – it was simply something he'd always known. "He needs a hair cut," he murmured absently, noticing the way the boy's hair reached well past his collar despite being pulled back into a neat ponytail. "What would you suggest?" he asked his hostess a second later.

The Duchess smiled at him. "Something eye-catching. Make him stand out, child, because he's never going to blend in. Crimson, perhaps, or even scarlet with his colouring." She nodded. "And don't you dare make him cut his hair. He should be allowed to continue the traditions of his family, no matter how much it makes him look like his father."

"Yes, Aunt Katya," Treize agreed absently, still looking at the younger man, then his head whipped round and he stared down at the little old woman in utter shock. "What?!" he demanded.

The Duchess drew herself upright and narrowed her eyes at the Instructor in a way which reminded him why she'd been the unchallenged doyen of Moscow Society for the last 30 years, one to whom even Treize's brilliant, beautiful mother had been forced to defer. "Treize Aleksandr Nikolaievich Khushrenad, do you take me for a fool?" she hissed at him, keeping her voice low in deference to his own position and the subject matter. He jumped at his full name nevertheless.

"Of course not," he protested.

"Well, then, I'll thank you not to treat me as one." She glared at him a moment more, then softened and patted him on the arm again. "I watched your father and his grow up, child. Katerina was my namesake. Of course I know who the boy really is."

Treize swallowed slowly. "My father led me to believe that he'd kept Zechs's identity a secret from everyone except immediate family."

The old woman's eyes took on a sympathetic amusement as she looked at her great-nephew. "Sasha-child, I *am* immediate family," she told Treize firmly, then gave him a single nod. "Send the boy to talk to me sometime this evening, if you think he's fit. I'd like to speak to him but I'm aware it must be difficult for him to be here tonight." She waited for Treize to nod his acknowledgement and then made her way back to her husband's side a little further down the ballroom, her steps measured and stately.

Treize watched her go before looking back to his wife and the two cadets and beginning his own slow progress back to them. Even though the Lepedev's dinner dance was one of the smaller functions Treize and his family would be attending over the course of the next few days – certainly nothing like the scale of the Ball he'd be hosting at his own home on Christmas Eve – the Ballroom was still full and it took him quite some time to weave his way through the crowds without colliding with people and spilling their drinks or standing on their feet. Half a dozen times, he was stopped by various acquaintances and drawn into conversations, but all the time his mind was turning over and over his great-aunt's words. Clearly, the old Duchess had realised – which Treize was ashamed to admit he hadn't, really – the significance of the date for Zechs.

Despite his conversation with Otto, it hadn't truly registered with anyone in the household that morning what day it was until the cadet had come crashing into the little sitting room in mad panic.

Leading his teacher back to the breakfast room, Otto had explained in hurried, stumbling words that, after Treize and Leia had left them alone, the two cadets had fallen to talking quietly until Otto had decided the room needed some background noise and had flicked on the little television set tucked away in one corner, searching for something meaningless and inoffensive. He'd settled on a channel screening some music review show and they'd let it run in the background, neither boy noticing when the program ended and the hourly news broadcast began.

Almost the first item had been a special on the Fall of the Sanc Kingdom, broadcast on the ninth anniversary of the tragedy, and to hear Otto tell it, Zechs's head had whipped round to stare at the screen, his face losing all colour in a matter of a heartbeat. Failing to get any response from his room-mate, Otto had panicked and come running for Treize.

Cursing himself for forgetting, Treize had stormed into the room to see Zechs watching the screen so fixedly he wasn't even blinking, absorbing everything as the news channel voiced over images of the burning palace and destroyed streets with the Alliance's explanation for the events. With 'terrible terrorist attack' and 'great tragedy' reaching his ears, Treize had gone to Zechs and tried to get him to leave the room, only to have the blonde resist until his teacher snarled at Otto to turn off the television. Only then had Treize been able to haul his ward into the corridor and brace him against the wall, instructing Leia to mind Otto until he got back.

One look into shell-shocked blue eyes and Treize had known there was no point trying to talk to the younger man. He'd reached out, put his arms around the boy and held him until Zechs had pushed him away and looked up at him, his face haunted. "I forgot, Treize," he'd whispered. "I *forgot*!"

Before Treize could formulate a reply, the blonde had pushed past him and run, vanishing up the stairs and back to his room, leaving his teacher to stare after him helplessly, knowing better than to follow him and wanting to nevertheless.

Otto, to his credit, had either worked out what was going on by himself, or decided that he was better off not knowing and hadn't asked Treize anything more than Zechs's location when the Instructor had rejoined his wife and house-guest. He had, however – when Zechs reappeared downstairs after lunch, pale and withdrawn – immediately gone to his friend and stayed glued to his side for the rest of the day.

As Treize closed the gap between himself and his party, he saw Zechs whisper a few words to Otto and then make his way through the open French windows onto the balcony. The dark-haired cadet watched him go, frowning, only until Leia touched him on the arm and drew him into her conversation, but the byplay was enough for Treize to change his path slightly and follow his ward outside.

* * *

"Illia?" Treize asked quietly, approaching the still figure of his friend. Zechs was standing in a corner of the balcony, looking out at some indefinable point on the horizon, his arms wrapped around himself in a gesture he'd never have allowed himself on any other night – or even on this one if he'd known he was being watched.

He turned at Treize's voice and forced a weak smile. "You escaped the Duchess still able to walk, then," he murmured.

"This time," Treize agreed. "But laugh at me and I'll be sure to tell her you'd love a trip round the floor with her. It's about time you suffered at one of these things too."

Zechs tilted his head to one side. "I can't dance, Treize – you know that."

The older man took the gesture as an invite come closer and moved up until he was leaning one hip on the railing and looking at the boy squarely. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "That's not going to work anymore, I'm afraid. I know you can dance. I saw you, remember?"

Zechs snorted lightly. "You mean in the club with Otto?" He shrugged. "If you want me to drag my room-mate into the middle of the floor and do that, I will but the music's not really suited. Actual Ballroom dancing – I haven't the first idea where to start so I'd probably be an ideal partner for the Duchess."

"I've got two days to teach you, then," Treize chuckled.

"Why only two days?" the blonde asked suspiciously, fearing the worst from the answer.

"I promised Leia you'd dance with her on Christmas Eve and I'm rather afraid she's got her heart set on it now. You wouldn't disappoint her, would you?"

"What on earth did you tell her that for?!" Zechs demanded, his expression horrified. "How much do you think I can learn in two days?!"

"I told her that because I know you'll make yourself learn to keep from upsetting her," Treize explained, "and it's something you really need to be able to do."

"You're a devious bastard," Zechs sighed and went back to staring out at the night sky.

"Admittedly." Treize reached out and put his arm around the boy, pulling until Zechs let his head come to rest on his teacher's shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. "I can send you and Otto home if you'd like?"

Zechs shook his head. "Not yet. We need to stay at least for dinner – it'd be a horrible insult to the Duke and Duchess otherwise."

"I can tell them you weren't feeling well. Aunt Katya will understand, trust me."

Zechs shook his head again. "After dinner, maybe. Otto's enjoying himself." He sighed softly. "You don't need to stay out here with me. I'll be alright in a minute."

"There's no great rush for me to leave then, is there?" Treize answered and drew the boy a little tighter, tilting his head to rest his cheek on Zechs's silky hair.

"Thank you," Zechs murmured.

"You're welcome."

There was a comfortable silence for a minute or two and then Zechs sighed again and pulled away a little. "The waltz you danced with the Duchess, did you recognise it?" he asked.

"Hmm? Yes, it's a favourite of hers." Treize shrugged a touch. "She often has it played at her Christmas Balls. Why?"

"My mother used to sing it to me."

"Oh." The teacher swallowed slowly, knocked a little off-guard by the younger man's answer. "Well, more than likely then, Aunt Katya was the one who taught it to her," he replied.

Zechs nodded. "I think so. She taught it to me, too, a few years ago. When you were away at the Academy for the first time," he explained. "She said it had been written for an ancestor of hers, a Romanov princess, and that it was appropriate for me to learn it." He shrugged. "Does she really have Romanov blood?"

The officer smiled. "As it happens, yes. Very distantly, of course, but she does and so do I. So do you, for that matter, from your mother. Surprised?" he asked, as Zechs looked up.

"Well, yes," Zechs admitted. "I thought they were all killed?"

"The last royal family was, yes, but some of the various cousins and aunts and uncles got away. And, of course, there have always been rumours about the crown prince and one of the princesses…." Treize stopped abruptly and looked down. " 'Appropriate', indeed, you old witch," he breathed. "Zechs, maybe we shouldn't talk about this now," he said shortly. "Ask me again some other time."

The blonde lifted his head from his friend's shoulder to look up at him for a moment, and then he nodded. "Alright," he agreed, apparently choosing to either take Treize at his word that it was a topic best left to another time, or simply lacking the energy to push the issue.

He put his head back down for a few seconds, settling firmly into the older man's side before taking a deep breath and pulling away. "We should be getting back to the Ballroom," he said quietly. "You've left Leia alone for far too long as it is and they'll be calling for dinner soon. You should dance with her at least once before then or it'll seem very strange."

Treize looked down at the boy steadily, assessing, and then smiled his agreement. "You're right, of course." He gestured towards the doors. "After you," he said.

Zechs shook his head at him but stepped in front of his teacher to go back into the ballroom and Treize hesitated a moment to watch him. Despite everything, the boy's posture was still parade-ground perfect, showing all the sharpness of someone who had been trained from birth to never stand any other way. His steps were measured and even, his back completely straight, the tail of his hair bright against his collar.

Treize drew a deep, steadying breath, forcing himself past the realisations that had blossomed in his mind in the past few minutes. Suddenly, his father's decision to take in the orphaned Zechs and hide him in plain sight as his adoptee was making a scary amount of sense.

The Sanc Kingdom shared a land border with Russia and the nobles of both countries had often intermarried. Zechs's mother had been a Russian noble from Treize's own family, and in very many ways, her children could be considered a part of that aristocracy as well.

Confirming to Zechs that the both of them did have the blood of the old Tsars running in their veins had only reminded Treize of that fact, making him recall his Romanov history and all the myths and legends that had surrounded their deaths. The parallels between their story and that of the Peacecraft's were nothing short of alarming – right down to the rumoured survival of one, or more, of the children.

His father's decision making had become rather clear. Aunt Katya was hardly the only member of the current Russian nobles to claim lineage from the Romanovs – half the people currently in the ballroom could say the same thing – and Treize's people had a famously long memory for such things. There was, most likely, no safer group of people in the world for Zechs to be surrounded by than the Russian aristocracy. He was a part of them, from his mother, and he was the Crown Prince of a neighbouring Monarchy unjustly destroyed – they'd protect him with their lives, the echoes of the past firmly in their blood.

It only remained to find some way to explain that to Zechs at some point in the future.

Treize took another steadying breath and went back into the Ballroom himself, gravitating immediately to the side of his wife and his students.


	17. Chapter 17

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Seventeen**

_December 22__nd__ AC 190_

Lepedev Estate – Moscow

"Here, drink it," Treize murmured, passing a short, heavy glass into Zechs's hands, "and don't let anyone see you. I'll be in a world of trouble if you do."

The blond took the glass with a grateful look and sniffed at the half-inch of amber liquid curiously.

"Whiskey," Treize explained. "I'm not giving you vodka – you fell asleep on me last time I did that and then decided to raise hell with Otto." Zechs blushed instantly but he put the glass to his mouth and downed the shot in a way that instantly convinced Treize that this wasn't the first time his student had encountered whiskey. The boy shivered as the potent liquor burned its way down and then put the glass back into his teacher's waiting hand with a grateful smile. "Better?" Treize asked.

Zechs nodded. "Thank you," he murmured.

Treize disposed of the glass on a conveniently nearby table and looked over his ward with critical eyes. "I'm sending you home," he announced a moment later. "You look like hell and it's starting to be noticed."

The younger man immediately shook his head. "I'm fine."

"No, you aren't. You didn't eat a thing at dinner and you've no colour at all. If a shot of thirty year old scotch can't you put you back on your feet at your age, then you aren't fit to be here. It's late enough that no-one will comment on it now."

The fight seemed to go out of Zechs all at once and he slumped forward in his seat a little. "Sorry," he murmured. "I just can't…."

"You don't need to explain, or to apologise."

"I'm causing you problems, though, and it's my own fault. I completely forgot my pills this morning, for one thing, and…."

Treize held up a hand to interrupt the flow of words, knowing if he let Zechs continue, the younger man would quickly talk himself into a spectacular fit of depression. "Well, it wasn't the best choice of day to do that on, I'll agree, but it doesn't matter now. Go and find Otto and I'll arrange for the car."

Zechs had been moving to obey but he hesitated now. "You're sending Otto home, too? He seems to be enjoying himself…."

"I know, but I won't have you be alone and he won't mind, I'm sure. Leia and I will only be a couple of hours behind you in any case. I'm sure the two of you can… entertain yourselves… for that amount of time."

Zechs's fading blush returned in full measure. "Uh, probably," he admitted, then closed his eyes and sighed. "To be honest, it would be nice right about now. I could do with…."

"I don't really want to know, thank you," Treize interrupted. "But I'll make you an offer: promise the two of you will stay away from my spirits – and any other drugs you may have brought with you – and I'll turn a blind eye to any missing bottles of wine. If the two of you choose to get completely drunk on that, I'll let it slide for once."

Zechs looked up at his friend for a moment and nodded. "Alright. Thank you," he added softly.

"Don't worry about it." Treize reached out and ran his hand over Zechs's hair once, gently. "Like I said, I'll be home in an hour or so. Feel free to come and find me then if you want to. I won't ask you any questions you don't want to answer if you do, no matter what state you're in."

Zechs nodded again, and summoned a grateful smile from somewhere before heading off through the room to find his classmate.

* * *

Otto tipped the last few drops of the wine into Zechs's glass with a wicked smirk. "Here," he said, passing it back to his roommate.

The blond put one hand up to take it lazily, not shifting from his position flat on his back on his bed or opening his eyes from the half-doze he'd slipped into, and smiled softly as he felt Otto's warmth resettle at his side.

As Treize had predicted, Otto hadn't seemed to mind in the least his suggestion that the two cadets should abandon the Ball early, and had followed Zechs quite contentedly into the car for the drive home. Both boys had gratefully stripped out of their uniforms as soon as they possibly could and were now curled up happily in Zechs's wide, comfortable bed, neither of them wearing more than loose jogging pants.

The quiet, meaningless conversation they'd shared over the last hour or so had been accompanied by the bottle of wine they'd just finished, so that they were both tipsy but hardly drunk – Zechs seemed to have taken Treize's permission as a sign of a rather adult trust and was determined to behave accordingly and not abuse the privilege – and they'd fallen quickly enough to exchanging lazy touches and caresses.

Either the wine or the undemanding presence of his friend had brought a little colour back to Zechs's face and Otto thought he looked quite peaceful and rather pretty lying against his pillows as he was. The dim light from the single lamp Zechs had turned on made the rich red wine spark from the inside, flashing ruby and casting a soft golden glow across skin that had been too pale for most of the day.

Acting on a sudden impulse, Otto prised Zechs's glass from his loose fingers, set it down along with his own and leaned down from his cross-legged position at the blonde's side to kiss him gently.

Zechs made some small, meaningless noise of approval in the back of his throat and reached out with his hand to pull the smaller boy down into his arms, rolling onto his side as he did so they were facing each other. Otto's hands, trailing sweeping caresses over his back, made him shiver and squirm a little closer and suddenly the two of them were tangling themselves around one another, falling into their kiss with wilful abandon until they had to pull away to breathe.

Otto propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at his friend with eyes that were both sad and curious. That this day had been a personal hell for Zechs was obvious and the strain of it showed. Despite everything Treize had done to try to help, the blond had been walking a knife edge of composure all evening, fighting to present an acceptable face to the assembled nobility at the Ball. Only the fact that it had been too short notice for Treize to cancel his attendance at the function – without some reason such as Mariemeia being in immediate danger of dying – without giving horrendous insult had resulted in Zechs going at all. The teacher had refused to allow his ward to stay at home alone.

Zechs chose that moment to use his hold on his friend to roll the smaller boy onto his back. "What are you thinking about so hard?" he asked, playing his fingers through short curls the colour of good dark chocolate.

Otto smiled. "Nothing much, angel. Just wondering how much longer Treize is going to be."

Zechs shrugged. "He told me he'd likely be a couple of hours but he might cut things short because of me. Why?"

"Just thinking of some of the things I talked about with him this morning, that's all. I wouldn't want him thinking I change my mind as often as I change my socks."

"What – not often enough?" Zechs teased.

Otto snorted and batted the blond on the shoulder. "Cheeky little bastard, aren't you?"

"So you tell me," Zechs agreed, grinning. "What did you talk about with Treize this morning, anyway? You haven't told me."

"And I'm not going to, either. It was personal. Some of it was nothing to do with you and the rest had far too much to do with you for you to ever find out about."

"Well, that's nice," Zechs grumbled. "Since when did Treize take to having private conversations of a personal nature with his cadets, anyway?" he demanded.

Otto had to bite back a grin at the flash of searing jealousy darkening his classmate's voice. "He is my tutor, hon. And yours." He brushed the pads of his fingers across the curve of a collar-bone and then spider-walked them down the blonde's chest. "I shouldn't fret about it."

Zechs hissed as Otto's clever fingers grazed his nipple and wriggled when they continued down his flat stomach. "I'm not fretting. I'll just ask Treize myself." His breath caught. "Otto, damn it…"

"What, love?" Otto asked softly, leaving his hand exactly where he'd stopped it, the tips of his fingers just slipped beneath the edge of the other boy's pants. He stretched up a little and traced a light and completely random pattern against golden skin with his tongue, making Zechs shiver all over again.

"Don't tease!"

"But it's what I do, beautiful!"

Zechs's mouth was on his before Otto could add to his retort, tongue flicking and stroking as the blond used his longer form to pin his roommate to the sheets, half-under him. Otto moaned as short-clipped nails scraped over his skin, scratching as Zechs tried clumsily to get them both out of their clothes and discovered they both lacked the experience and finesse to manage it without separating.

The blond rolled onto his back to shimmy free of his trousers and dropped them carelessly on the floor at the side of the bed, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye as Otto did the same thing with his. The brunette closed his eyes for a second, hoping he was making the right decision, and took a deep breath before holding out an inviting hand to the other cadet, and Zechs hesitated for the same half-second before he took it and let himself be pulled back into his original position.

Somehow, Otto had manoeuvred them so that one of Zechs's knees was between his own, letting them fit together along their full lengths in one of the most intimate embrace they'd ever shared. They'd had all their clothes off before, more than once when they'd been playing around with each other, but there was something different about it without the customary laughter and silliness.

Brown eyes held blue for a moment as Otto swept his hands back through Zechs's tumbled hair and gathered it into a loose ponytail at the back of his neck. "You aren't tired, are you, sweetie?" he asked softly.

Zechs frowned a little. "No…. Why?"

"No reason," Otto sighed. He let go of the other boy's hair and watched as it fell back around his face, mussed locks framing it. Silently, he half apologised to and half cursed his teacher for the conversation they'd had that morning. Without Treize raising the topic, it was unlikely that Otto would even be contemplating what he was at that moment, and yet Otto was aware that he'd all but promised the Instructor that he wouldn't ever contemplate it at all.

From the moment Zechs had reappeared that afternoon, the dark-haired cadet had known the day could only end in one of three ways: Either Zechs would collapse, exhausted, and sleep like the dead, he'd lose the control he'd been forcing on himself all day and fall apart in an emotional storm, or he'd fall into bed and use physical pleasure to blot out his thoughts. Treize could have provided a soothing presence or a source of comfort just as easily as Otto and had therefore been as likely a candidate for either of the first two scenarios. Obviously, though, he was of little use for the third, and by sending his students home ahead of him, he'd removed himself from the equation in any case.

There had been no sign of Zechs dissolving into hysterics and he'd just confirmed that he wasn't about to fall asleep.

"Come here," Otto said softly, his hands sliding away from Zechs's hair. One wrapped around the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss and the other was slipped between their bodies. The blond sank into the kiss willingly, making small sounds of pleasure as they shifted against one another to find the best arrangement of limbs.

Zechs pulled away, panting for a moment before he turned his mouth to worrying at a spot on his classmate's throat, nibbling lightly and soothing the sting away with warm strokes of his tongue. It was a weak spot of Otto's and he groaned quietly, letting his back arch slightly as it wanted to and press him firmly into the blond. His roaming hand lingered for a second or two on Zechs's hip, fingers making idle swirls, before gripping tight for balance for a heartbeat and then sliding between them again to seek out more sensitive areas.

"Oh, Christ…!"

Otto chuckled, albeit a touch breathlessly, stroking as best he could with the angle so awkward. Without thinking, he wrapped his leg around Zechs's and used it for leverage as he pressed his weight up again. It got him another groan and the blonde's mouth back on his own for another heavy, hungry kiss. "Zechs…" Otto gasped, when the other boy moved away a little. "Those rules we made…about what we can and can't do…? Forget them."

Zechs's body jerked against Otto's and then the blond was looking at him, open surprise on his face warring with a growing need to simply say yes and have done. The expression in his eyes was grateful, hopeful; Otto had known that his friend would welcome the chance at the new experience as a way of making it all go away for a few hours.

The desperately wanting look was gone as quickly as it had come and Zechs swallowed a couple of times before wetting his lips with his tongue and drawing a shaky breath. "Are… are you sure? You've always said that…. Well, that you wanted it to matter when you…."

Otto shrugged roughly, caught by the roil of his own feelings. "Yeah, well, let's just say the half term was… educational for me and leave it there, shall we?" he replied, trying to keep the regret and the anger buried behind his customary good humour so it wouldn't show on his face or in his voice. If Zechs thought for a moment Otto wasn't sure of what he was offering, he'd refuse as readily as he'd agreed to the restrictions in the first place.

Pale eyes widened in shock "Wait, what?" Zechs spluttered, pulling back from his friend a little so they could see each other clearly. "What are you saying? What happened?"

"What do you think happened?!" Otto snapped, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shoving the sudden flash of annoyance – fuelled more from his own mixed-up feelings on the subject than true irritation with Zechs – down and away. "It mattering to me is not an issue anymore," he added, more quietly.

A gentle hand brushed against Otto's cheek and the brunette looked up into concerned eyes. "What happened?" Zechs asked again, softly. "Are you alright?"

The smaller boy shrugged again. "He was attractive and charming and a prize bastard. I was drunk and high and stupid. I should have told him to stop but I wasn't thinking and he knew it and used it to get what he wanted. It was amazing at the time and a mistake the following morning and there's nothing I can do about it now." He sighed. "So."

Zechs stroked his cheek again. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know you wanted to wait for the right person."

"Don't be." Otto found a smile. "It's water under the bridge now and it has its charms, after all. I've been having a fair old time of it these past few weeks!"

The blond chuckled. "I'll just bet you have," he agreed dryly. "And you might not keep me on such a tight leash now, either!" He shook his head. "Only if you're sure, though," he added, more quietly. "I… the last thing I'd want is to hurt you."

"Sweetie, if I can sleep with that prick and the idiots in those clubs, then I certainly can with you." Otto freed his hands and curled them around the blonde's neck, pulling him back down. "And that's my line, by the way."

"What is?"

"The 'only if you're sure, I wouldn't want to hurt you,' bit. After all, you're the virgin here, not me." Otto grinned up at the other cadet.

"Oh, piss off," Zechs growled quietly, putting his mouth back on the mark he'd left earlier.

Otto laughed and then gasped as sensation washed through him, making him wriggle under his friend and getting a low moan from him in turn. "Well, you are," he said when Zechs let up for a minute.

"Not for much longer."

"Only if you *are* sure, hon? At the very least, I promised Treize I'd look after you and he'll string me up if I hurt you."

"Treize can piss off as well," Zechs muttered, glaring as much as he could given his current position. "What the hell would he know anyway?"

"Well, he has a daughter, love," Otto teased, "so I imagine he has *some* idea…!"

"Otto, for God's sake!"

"What, beautiful?"

"I'm dying here! Are you going to do this or not?"

Otto smiled suddenly. "Actually, no, I'm not," he said. A moment later, he'd rolled the two of them so that Zechs was flat on his back amongst the pillows again with his roommate seated across his lap. "You are."

"What?" Zechs asked, bewildered by the sudden flip and his friend's words.

"We'll get into whether you'd prefer top or bottom some other time. For now…." Otto pushed down on Zechs's shoulders with his hands and used the leverage to hop off the bed so he could pad across the room and root in the inside pocket of his jacket for something. He was back a moment later, tossing a little bottle to Zechs before he resumed his previous position. "Unless you'd really, really rather not, it's better if you top this time," he explained as Zechs stared at the bottle he'd caught automatically with some surprise.

"Why?"

"Without getting into long-winded explanations?" Otto asked. "Forgive me for being this blunt but – taking it is a… unique set of sensations and they take a bit of getting used to. I've done it before, I know how it should feel and I know I like it. You haven't, you don't and you might turn out to hate it." He shrugged. "I'm not the most experienced top you could have, either. I've only done it that way once and I'd rather play safe with this… so you get to pin me down and have at me."

Zechs had coloured at his friend's words but now he frowned. "I don't have the first clue how," he admitted. "I mean, I know how it's supposed to work," he explained, "but I've never…

Otto smiled. "I know what you mean. Like I said, I'm not the most experienced but I have some idea. I can talk you through it." He wriggled a little, making the blond catch his breath sharply and then dropped onto his side on the bed. "Give me that bottle back," he instructed, "and give me your right hand."

Zechs obeyed immediately and flinched when Otto tipped a fair quantity of cool, slippery liquid into his hand. "How worried about the sheets are we here, love?" the smaller boy asked.

"Not at all," Zechs answered, his voice just a shade breathless.

"Good. You need to get that stuff on your fingers, sweetie, not just stare at it. I thought you were impatient?"

Zechs sat up. "I am. I just…."

Otto leaned in and kissed him, closing his hand into a loose fist as he did so, so that Zechs's fingers were automatically coated in the liquid. "Shh, angel," he soothed. "You said you know the theory, right?"

"Yes, but…."

"So you know you need to stretch me before you can do anything else?" Otto waited for Zechs to nod and then gestured at his hand. "So, then, you know what that's for." He let a teasing grin touch his lips. "I know you've come across the lube before," he reminded, deliberately prompting Zechs to recall some of the other occasions they'd broken out the lube together – a succession of hand jobs that had grown more skilled as time passed and they grew more confident.

"Yes. Sorry." Zechs shook his head. "I don't know what's the matter with me," he admitted. "I should have gotten over being shocked by anything you come up with years ago!"

"Don't fret about it." The brunette smiled, letting his own nervousness show in his eyes until Zechs relaxed and smiled back. He leaned forward to press his lips briefly to Zechs's. "Give me your hand," he said again.

The other cadet held his hand out a little stiffly and Otto caught his wrist and folded all of his fingers back except the first. "Now, come here."

Zechs hesitated for a moment, then moved closer. Otto took a deep breath and then guided the blonde's hand down and set it in place at the entrance to his body. "Slowly and firmly, okay?" he instructed, making sure Zechs was clear about what he needed to do. "I'll tell you if you hurt me or if I want you to stop." Brown eyes locked with blue and, for a moment, Zechs could see the competent, cool officer coming to the fore in his friend's eyes, before a gentler expression took them over and his roommate smiled at him encouragingly. "I know it seems odd."

"A bit," Zechs admitted, then pulled himself together and pressed down and in with his finger. Otto hissed under his breath as his body was breached, then gave a soft moan.

"That's it…" he encouraged. He used his grip on Zechs's wrist to move the other boy's hand about and then smiled up at him unsteadily. "Two, now."

Zechs did as he was told, his eyes going unfocused as he concentrated on the feel of soft, warm flesh enclosing his fingers and tried to imagine what it would feel like around his erection. Otto moaned again, shuddering under his touch and it made Zechs jump with him. "Does that feel good?" he asked softly, suddenly curious. He had some notion from the occasional bit of furtive self-experimentation he'd done but he was sure it wouldn't be the same.

"Oh, yes…." The smaller cadet arched his back, driving Zechs's fingers deeper into him as he wrapped his own hand around his till-now neglected erection and stroked lightly. He twisted under the twin feelings, moving restlessly against the sheets for a minute or two before pulling his hand away with clear effort. "Oh, God…," he groaned. "Zechs, give me that bottle." Otto wanted to take things slowly, for Zechs's sake, but he was also aware of his own body and what it wanted.

The blond complied willingly, fixated completely on the sight of the other boy in front of him.

Otto slicked his own fingers quickly and beckoned his classmate to him with the other hand, letting it come to rest along Zechs's jaw when the blond moved towards him "Still sure you want to do this, angel?" he quizzed softly, wondering whether he'd be more relieved or disappointed if Zechs said no. Otto had wanted this for a long time, but he was also aware that he'd imagined it rather differently. "Say now if you aren't," he ordered.

"Are you mad?" Zechs demanded and there was a tremor in his voice that matched the sheen of sweat that had turned his skin dewy. "If you'd kept that display up much longer I think I'd have gone crazy."

The honest frustration made the brunette chuckle. "So nice to be appreciated," he teased.

Zechs rolled his eyes, then glared when Otto gave him a shove that put him on his rear on the sheets again. A moment later, the smaller boy was back, once again straddling his lap, one knee on either side of the blonde's legs, one hand on his shoulder for balance and the other wrapped around his length, caressing it with knowing fingers as he coated it with the lube. Zechs moaned softly, biting the sound back and leaned in, catching his friend into a wanting kiss that ended shortly when Zechs pulled away to cry out in shock as Otto used one hand to steady his erection and then sink down onto it.

"Oh, my…. Fuck! Otto!"

Otto smiled, his breath catching as the feeling of having Zechs inside him ran through his entire body, electrifying nerve-endings. "Shh, love, shh. Steady," he soothed, then gave the blond a gentle kiss. "Deep breaths, that's it. Good," he approved as the first startled tension ebbed out of his roommate.

"God, this feels…." Zechs breathed. "I've never…."

"I know." The smaller boy gave his friend a lingering caress before twining their hands together for balance. "I know, love."

Zechs held himself completely still, his focus directed somewhere inside himself. "Can I…?" he started to ask, a little hesitantly, and Otto interrupted him.

"Yes, move," he encouraged. "Come on."

The brunette began rocking his weight, using the leverage provided by his grip on Zechs's for balance, freeing the blond to push up to meet him, his whole body shaking from the onslaught of new sensations.

The dark-haired cadet could at least relate to what his lover was experiencing. It might have been something he'd done only once – and that hurriedly in the back room of a night club – but Otto could clearly remember the overwhelming shock of someone else's body gripping his for the first time. It was wet heat and maddening pressure trapping and releasing, smooth and not at the same time, and it was no shock to him when, very quickly, Zechs began to whine with each stroke.

"Easy now, slow down," he soothed, recalling how quickly he'd lost control. "Steady."

"I… can't…." Zechs panted.

"Yes, you can." Otto forced them into a slower movement, giving them a rhythm that was by no means smooth or even but that kept a constant build-up of the tightness in his belly and the pitch of Zechs's moans, without threatening to send them both over the edge too soon. He picked up where he'd left off, stroking himself firmly and, all the time, keeping his eyes firmly on his friend's face, despite the instinct to close them. He watched as it flushed with the strain and the mounting pleasure, as Zechs's eyes squeezed shut tightly and his lips parted in a silent moan before he bit the bottom one in an effort to silence himself.

Otto chuckled at him softly. "If you were jerking off after Lights Out in the dorm-room, I'd appreciate the effort, beautiful, but I'd quite like to hear you now," he encouraged. "You started off fine, don't stop now."

"…Sorry…." Zechs caught Otto's shoulder and pulled himself upright. "Christ!" he gasped.

"Something like that."

"No, no, I mean…." The blonde's mouth was hard on Otto's for a moment, then, "Ohhh, God! Otto, I… I need to… I'm going to…." He put his head back and moaned sharply. "Otto!"

Otto stopped fighting his own release. "Fuck, yes!"

He heard Zechs's cry blend with his own, the blonde's body tensing and losing all rhythm before relaxing in degrees. There was a flood of wet warmth inside him, a feeling still new enough to be surprising, and then Otto lost track of his surroundings as he came himself, spilling over his hand and onto his lover's skin.

He came back to himself to find Zechs clinging to him weakly, his head buried against Otto's shoulder. "Are you alright, Zechs?" he asked softly, bringing his clean hand up to run it through sweat-damp blond hair.

"I'm not quite sure," Zechs admitted shakily. "That was…."

"Different, isn't it?" Otto asked quietly.

The blond wrapped his arms around his friend's waist lazily and leaned a little harder. "Yes," he murmured. "Fun, though."

"Oh, definitely that," Otto agreed drowsily, then sat up straight, wincing a little. "Though I don't like this part."

"Hmm?" Zechs asked, letting him go and flopping backwards suddenly. He gathered up a handful of the sheet and wiped absently at the drying fluid on his stomach, and cringed as Otto knelt up, separating the two of them. "I see what you mean."

"It's not good, no. I'll be back in a minute, angel."

"Okay…."

Otto made his way across the room to the en-suite bathroom, returning a few minutes later with a damp washcloth and his own skin cleaned as best he could without getting in a shower. He stopped by the bed long enough to pull his jogging pants on and then sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Zechs had curled up on his side, watching his friend as he moved around. Otto brushed the cloud of his hair out of his face and then handed the cloth to him, glancing discretely away as Zechs used it to clean up and put it on the night table next to the half-empty glasses.

He caught Otto's hand in his a moment later and tugged on it as the brunette glanced down in surprise. "Thank you," he murmured softly, expression intense.

Otto smiled down at him. "You're welcome," he answered. "You said it yourself – it was fun." He squeezed back with his hand, and then swung himself around and under the covers next to his friend.

The blond rolled over immediately, closing the space between them to nothing as he twined their bodies together. "You'll stay?" he asked, and there was just the first hint of sleepiness in his voice.

Otto nodded. "If you want." He bit his lip for a moment and reached to flick the light off before asking, "No regrets?"

Zechs settled his head onto Otto's shoulder, teasing his skin with silky strands of hair as he shook his head. "No, of course not."

"Good. That's the last thing I would have wanted for you." Otto gave a little dry laugh. "You know what?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question. "I think I'm going to forget about everyone else and pretend you were my first as well."

Zechs laughed, then yawned. "If you like," he replied. "Though it's probably a good thing one of us knew what they were doing."

"Aye, probably, love." Otto yawned a moment after Zechs did and closed his eyes as he felt the blond snuggle closer and grow heavy as he slipped into sleep. "Night, beautiful," he whispered and let himself go as well.


	18. Chapter 18

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Eighteen**

_December 23__rd__ AC 190_

Khushrenada Ancestral Estate – Moscow

Zechs was wakened from his sleep an undefined period of time later by a light tapping on his bedroom door. Grumbling drowsily, he scrambled out from under Otto's arm – heavy and warm around his waist – made a clumsy grab for his robe and tied it sloppily around himself as he stumbled across the room to the door.

He opened it just as his visitor was turning away to walk back down the corridor, and he was surprised to see Treize, still in the shirt and trousers of his Mess Uniform and barefoot.

"Treize?" he called softly, very aware of Otto sleeping behind him and not wanting to wake him.

The older man turned his head immediately and smiled. "Did I wake you?" he asked, taking in Zechs's more than a little rumpled appearance.

"Yes, but it doesn't matter." Zechs yawned, bringing one hand up to cover his mouth automatically. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost one. Were you asleep long?"

The blond shrugged, trying desperately not to colour. "I'm… not sure, to be honest. It was about eleven last time I looked, but that was a while before we…before I fell asleep. An hour or so, maybe," he answered finally, not meeting Treize's eyes.

"I said I wouldn't ask, Zechs, and I meant it," Treize reminded him gently. "What, if anything, happened tonight is yours to tell me when and if you ever wish to and not before. May I make a suggestion though…?" He waited until the younger man nodded, glancing up at him. "Open your bedroom window at some point. Certain scents are very distinctive."

Zechs lost his fight with his blush at that. "Ah, yes..." he admitted, looking away again. He glanced back into the darkness of his room, hearing the sheets rustle as Otto stirred in his sleep. Thoughts of his roommate conjured up a flash of memory that he got lost in for a moment and he nodded, unaware he was doing it. "I find it pleasant, though…" he murmured, mostly to himself.

"So do I," Treize answered him, trying not to laugh when Zechs looked up at him in utter horror. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked, diplomatically changing the subject. "Unless you'd prefer to go straight back to bed? I think if we stand here talking much longer, we'll wake poor Otto altogether and somebody in this house ought to get an uninterrupted night's sleep."

The younger man nodded his agreement, then asked Treize to give him a moment which he used to duck back into his bedroom, throw on his jogging pants and a t-shirt under his robe and pull his brush roughly through his hair so that it wasn't sticking all ways at once.

The Instructor smiled at the changes when Zechs reappeared but made no further comment as he led him through the house and to his suite of rooms on the far side.

The sets of rooms intended for the master and mistress of the house were stunning in both their scope and their décor. Occupying two full floors of the west wing, with nurseries and schoolrooms above them and formal offices below, Leia's was on the first floor and Treize's on the second, and each comprised a full bathroom, sitting room, study, bedroom and small kitchen – two completely self-contained apartments within the house proper, Treize had noted once. They were linked to each other, and to the nurseries and offices, by a flight of steps at the end of a long corridor.

As they walked up these, Treize confessed quietly that he actually preferred his old room – the one that Otto was occupying over the holiday – because the new ones were simply too much space. "After the rooms at the Academy for three months straight," he explained, "I feel almost agoraphobic in these. The bedroom alone is bigger than my entire suite at Victoria and would fit a cadet dorm in about three times."

"Why stay in these then?" Zechs asked. "I'm hardly going to object to having you next door again."

Treize shrugged, opening the door into his sitting room. "Tradition mostly. The staff expect it, of course, and it does have it's advantages. I'm within hearing distance of the nursery, for one thing."

"That's a good thing?" Zechs pondered. "If Marie decides to scream all night long?"

"Well, not then, no. But then, if Marie were to decide to scream all night, that would probably mean there was something wrong with her. I sleep better knowing I'd hear something like that." Treize smiled a little ruefully. "I like being able to check on her before I go to bed too, without having to walk half way across the house the way I have to for you."

Zechs gave him a surprised look, dropping into the chair Treize offered him. "You check on me?"

"You, then Marie, then Leia, all things being equal. You didn't know?" Treize asked, taking in the stunned expression Zechs was wearing. "I thought I'd woken you at least once."

"If you have, I don't remember. Every night?"

The older man nodded. "Unless something has gone wrong, yes. Not as much when we're at the Academy, of course, but here…" he offered Zechs another shrug. "When I first moved from my old room into here, I gave some thought to having one of the nursery rooms upstairs converted for you, but I had the feeling you wouldn't have appreciated having me in earshot of everything you did. God knows, I would have died if any adult could have heard me at thirteen! Fortunately I only had you to contend with and you were too young and too heavy a sleeper to be a problem."

It took Zechs a moment or two to figure out what Treize was implying and then the blush was back, again. It seemed to be his night for it. Still, he recognised the comment for what it truly was – banter intended to put himself and Treize on the same level – and he forced himself to swallow his embarrassment and answer in the same vein. "You wouldn't, ah, ever have heard me," he answered honestly. "I'm rather well practiced at being completely silent during activities like that. I have to be."

Treize raised an eyebrow, then smiled and shook his head. "You know what? I'm not going to ask." He gestured towards his little kitchen. "Would you like that coffee now?"

Zechs, still trying desperately to get his blush under control, nodded gratefully. "How was the party after we left?" he called, raising his voice a little so that Treize would be able to hear him in the other room.

"Pleasant enough, I suppose." Treize reappeared a moment later with two steaming mugs in his hands and offered one to the younger man before folding himself into another chair. "Leia about danced holes in the bottom of my shoes."

Zechs smiled fondly. "She enjoys having you at home, I think."

"I enjoy being at home," Treize said, matching the gentle smile. "I'd spend more time here if I could. It's only in the last year or so I've come to realise why my father left it so late in his life to marry and have a family. He was waiting until he retired from the military."

The cadet looked at his friend from over the rim of his coffee cup, shifting his weight and curling his feet under him on the cushions of the chair. "Do you… regret it?" he asked softly, still questioning whether he should or not as he spoke. There was something in the air between himself and his teacher this evening that Zechs had never felt before; a weight of trust, a warmth, an openness. He had the impression, certain and inexplicable, that Treize would be willing to answer almost any question, and honestly, if Zechs would just dare to ask it. He wouldn't realise until much later – years later – that it was the hallmark of the older man treating him as an equal, a confidant, for the first time, rather than as a child and his ward.

"Being away from home so much?" Treize quizzed, breaking into the line of thought. "Of course," he admitted. "I miss so much of Marie growing up that I feel I barely know her sometimes." He sighed, dropping his gaze. "I always… I fear that I'm going to come home one day and she won't know who I am."

Zechs watched him, then took a deep breath. "No," he said quietly. "Leia and Marie. Having a family. If you could go back and change things, would you?"

Treize stilled, his cup in midair. He put it back in its saucer slowly and bit his bottom lip, still looking down. "I don't know," he confessed eventually, his voice very low in the warm air of the darkened room. "Is that awful of me?" He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and lifted them to meet Zechs's gaze. There was genuine puzzlement in them. "I loved Leia," he said, "and it hurt like nothing else I'd ever felt, leaving her behind on L3 when I came back to Earth. God knows, I was desperate when I took her to bed." He gave a sad little chuckle. "I wouldn't ever have touched her if I hadn't been, but asking her to marry me never crossed my mind. I hadn't even thought of keeping in contact with her."

He gave a little shrug, but it wasn't an easy gesture. "Once she called me and told me she was pregnant, I had very little choice, of course…."

"Didn't you?" Zechs interrupted, "You never thought of having her…ah, end the pregnancy…?" he asked, wondering seriously whether he was going too far – on any other night, Treize would never have given him as much as he already had. Zechs had no wish to push his luck or to cause his friend any more pain but he couldn't help seeking an answer to something he'd always been puzzled about.

Treize simply shook his head. "Of course not. What would that have made me?" he asked. "There was no medical reason for her to terminate; I certainly wasn't going to struggle to support a wife and child, so…" He shrugged again, and then looked at Zechs with something a little embarrassed in his gaze. "It's strange how childhood religion sticks, isn't it?" he asked softly.

Zechs opened his mouth to disagree, to say that the Christian doctrine he'd been introduced to by Madame Khushrenada hadn't left any impression on him at all other than a certain amount of boredom, and closed it again as he realised what the older man was saying. Apparently, the faith had taken hold for his friend, at least enough to affect his behaviour in a few little ways that Zechs had seen over the years, and which suddenly made sense. At least enough that he hadn't been able to stomach the idea of aborting Leia's pregnancy, as Zechs was sure he'd been advised to. "Yes," he answered eventually, sensing somehow that Treize needed him to.

The older man smiled sadly. "So," he said again. "That was – as they say – that. Mariemeia is a constant joy, of course. I don't *regret* having her or marrying Leia, precisely, but I do sometimes… wonder."

Zechs took a mouthful of his coffee. "About what?" he asked when he'd swallowed it.

"What things would be like if Leia had gotten pregnant. What would have happened if I hadn't met her at all – If it had been you in my group on that mission, rather than Noin, you'd have been in one of the other suits, and I probably wouldn't have been hurt. What would have happened if I'd never gone to L3 at all." Treize shook his head. "It changed a lot of things, suddenly having a wife and baby; my plans, my relationship with you, me. For one thing, I probably wouldn't have stayed at the Academy after your first year if I hadn't wanted the guaranteed leave time. I'd have gone back to a front line command and I'd most likely have been promoted at least once since then. I'd have done far more travelling – you would have had to get used to me coming in and sweeping you off to strange corners of the world for your breaks. You'd likely have spent this holiday planning where I was going to drag you next summer after you graduate and listening to me trying to coax you into joining my command rather than the other half a dozen that are doubtlessly going to be offered to you."

Zechs had to smile. "Because you'd have had to work so very hard at that," he snorted. "I can't imagine anyone offering me anything particularly tempting."

Treize raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Oh? You just wait – you're in for one hell of a shock if that's what you think." He shrugged, his expression turning sombre again. "And for all that I wouldn't have been with you every day, I'd probably have been more help to you. I haven't always given you the time and the support I promised you when my parents were killed."

Zechs blinked. "Treize?" Where had this turn in the conversation come from? As much as Treize's descriptions of holidays for just the two of them in obscure places appealed to the cadet, he couldn't fault the care the older man had shown him in the last two years.

The redhead sighed. "I wasn't expecting to be responsible for a newborn eighteen months later when I made that promise to you, but still…. I know I've let things slip with you a little occasionally, especially lately."

"Treize, it's not… it's fine," Zechs stumbled, not knowing what else to say. It had been enough for Zechs that Treize had thought to make his promise at all, given that he'd been a sixteen year old grieving for the sudden deaths of both his parents at the time. As far as the blond could tell, the introduction of Leia and then Marie to their lives hadn't affected how Treize acted with him at all. If anything, Zechs had found that he felt more secure for having the two females waiting for them in Russia – he'd gained a friend and a sort-of older sister in Leia, and a new sibling and surrogate child in Mariemeia. The cheery family breaks were a balm to parts of his soul still wounded by the wreck of his childhood and the older man had become, if anything, easier to approach and more gentle for being a father.

Perhaps that was why he dealt so badly with Treize's affair with Valadin – because it threatened that security.

For a second, the cadet wished *he* could re-write time – so he could go back to before Valadin existed, to before he became aware of sex – and change things so none of the issues between himself and Treize would exist.

It was strange – for so many years, Zechs's biggest regret had always been the loss of his home and original family, but suddenly – at that moment – all he wanted was to go back to what he'd had that summer. Treize and himself, Leia and Marie; perfect trust and perfect understanding and the security that came with them.

His throat tightened and he looked at the floor, swallowing mouthfuls of nearly cold coffee quickly to ease the feeling.

"Zechs?" Treize's voice was gentle, and there was the rustle of clothing a moment later as the older man stood up. "What did I say?"

Zechs shook his head sharply. "Nothing."

"Really?" Treize sank to his knees in front of the cadet's chair and ducked his head to look up at him. "Listen, I know the last few weeks haven't been easy but you can still…" he trailed off but his words – "come to me"; "lean on me"; "cry on my shoulder" – were in the air between them. "None of it makes a difference, I promise."

Zechs simply shook his head again, opening his mouth to ask, 'How can it not?' and stopped as his sharp hearing caught something from somewhere else in the house.

"Did you hear that?" he asked instead, straining to see if he could catch the sound again.

"No," Treize replied. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure…."

The sound came again, a high-pitched, softly voiced whimpering.

Treize smiled. "That's Marie," he said, getting to his feet. "Come with me?" he asked.

Zechs stood up as well, setting his coffee cup down on the floor and followed the man as he made his way down the corridor and up the stairs. He opened the nursery door carefully and led the younger man inside on silent feet.

Zechs stayed a few paces back and watched as Treize went straight to his daughter's cot, leaning over the high barred sides and reaching down to the crying infant.

"Hey there, little love," he murmured, scooping the child into his arms and resting her against his chest. "What's all this fuss about, hmm?"

Marie snuffled, hiccupping wordlessly. "Papa," she sobbed, clinging sleepily.

Treize stepped back from her cot, balancing her on one arm as he checked she was still dry, brushed a hand over her forehead to take her temperature and then picked up the topmost of her blankets and wrapped it around her. "Hush now, Maryusha." He began walking slowly, rocking her back and forward with every step, murmuring constantly in a mix of Russian and English until the child's crying died away and she was leaning against him quietly.

Zechs watched, a bittersweet smile touching his face, until Treize looked up at him. The older man raised an eyebrow at his expression and bent his head again to say something else to Mariemeia.

She nodded drowsily, clearly ready to fall back asleep now Treize had soothed her past whatever had woken her, and reached up to put her arms around her father's neck as he came towards Zechs and the door.

He gathered the younger man up with a silent gesture and took the both of them back down the stairs to his own rooms, where he nodded at the long, over-stuffed couch set near the bed. "Sit down," he directed.

Zechs looked surprised but did as he was told. His arms came up automatically as Treize bent and settled his daughter on the cadet's lap, blanket and all, wrapping around the little girl to prevent her from falling as she curled up against him trustingly.

"Treize?"

"Hold her for me, will you? I want to get her a drink before I put her back to bed."

Zechs nodded, watching as Treize went to his little kitchen again, pausing on his way to collect their abandoned coffee cups and take them with him. He looked down at Marie after Treize was out of sight, and bit his lip when he saw she'd wrapped one little hand into his robe and closed her eyes. "Hey, Marie, you aren't supposed to fall asleep yet," he whispered, wondering if he should disturb her and finding that he didn't have the heart to.

She snuffled again. "I-lli-a," she breathed, her body growing heavy and warm.

The cadet swallowed, wondering if Treize had known what was going to happen. The feel of Marie's little body in his arms was recalling memories Zechs tried his best not to think about usually.

He closed his own eyes as they began to burn, curling up into a corner of the couch and cradling his goddaughter closer as he forced himself to fall asleep too.


	19. Chapter 19

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Nineteen**

_December 23__rd__ AC 190_

_Khushrenada Ancestral Estate – Moscow_

"Do hurry up, dear!"

Zechs leaned against the side of the car, endeavouring not to laugh as Treize tapped his foot against the gravel path impatiently and tried not to holler at his wife the way he clearly wanted to.

Leia's sweet voice echoed back to them from the entrance hall of the house, where she'd caught Otto by one arm and asked to speak to him alone. "Just a moment!" she called.

"She said that five minutes ago!" Treize grumbled under his breath. "What the hell can she want to talk to Otto about so secretly anyway?"

Zechs made no answer other than to shake his head. Otto's face when Leia had collared him had been priceless, and if Treize was too dumb to realise that his wife and houseguest were swapping ideas for presents for the two of them, then Zechs saw no reason to enlighten him.

Two small hands, wrapped against the freezing air in soft woollen mittens, suddenly appeared in front of him and patted him on the cheeks. Zechs looked down and smiled when he saw Mariemeia was gazing up at him, her sapphire eyes – so much like her father's – shining as she giggled and burbled happily.

He crossed his eyes at her and she giggled more, the bright sound filling the crisp air.

Treize turned from his fixed stare at the door to look at the two of them, watching as Zechs bounced his daughter up and down and pulled faces, encouraging her laughter. "She only ate half an hour ago," he warned. "You'll regret it if you keep jostling her like that."

Zechs glanced up at him and shook his head. "She'll be fine," he answered blithely.

Treize shrugged. "If you say so. Don't blame me if she's sick all over you."

The blond just shook his head again, turning his attention back to the little girl. "What do you say, Mei-Mei?" he asked conversationally. "Isn't your daddy silly?"

"Papa!" Marie agreed and Treize had to smile. He watched the two of them for a moment more, then turned to look back at his front door.

Zechs had barely let Marie out of his sight all morning, only yielding his hold on her to her mother and nurse so she could be clothed and bathed, and so he could dress and take his own shower. He'd taken her back almost immediately afterwards, cradling her close whilst she was still warm and sweet-smelling from her bath, and kept her on his lap throughout breakfast, cutting her slices of toast and encouraging her as she mauled and mangled them happily.

Treize hadn't had the heart to argue with any of it – he knew too well how soothing having Marie's little body in his arms could be to rob the boy of it. He'd handed her to Zechs the night before for exactly that reason, hoping her undemanding warmth and trusting affection would act as a comfort for a boy too old to gain solace from stuffed toys and meaningless words, and too young to realise there was nothing shameful in needing that comfort in the first place.

He hadn't expected to come back from the kitchen to find both of them curled up on his sofa, sound asleep.

He'd stood and watched them for a few minutes, caught between smiling at the sweetness of the sight and having to swallow back unexpected grief at the obvious strain on Zechs's face, then leaned over, lifted Marie out of the way for a moment, making her stir sleepily, and picked Zechs up. He'd settled the boy's light, lanky form on his own bed and transferred Marie back so she was resting against him again, before going and taking care of his own nighttime routine and coming back to lie down on his couch.

Six months before, he would have simply shared the bed with them and thought nothing of it. He refused to look at why he didn't this time.

If being abandoned in the middle of the night had bothered Otto, he hadn't shown it to Treize. Instead, he, like Leia, had been indulgently amused by Zechs and Marie clinging to each other all morning.

Treize had found himself abruptly grateful for the strength of the bond between his adopted brother and his daughter. Reminding Zechs of the promise he'd made at his parent's funeral had also reminded him that anyone could die unexpectedly. If something happened to him and Leia both, then at least Marie would have someone else willing to care for her, as Zechs himself almost hadn't.

Finally, Leia and Otto appeared in the front door and Treize took this as his cue to open the doors of the car and bundle everyone in.

* * *

"Pretty!"

Treize caught Mariemeia's hands in one of his own as she made a predictable grab for the shining glass baubles on one of the Christmas trees the party had walked past and shook his head. "No, Marie," he corrected firmly. "You'll get hurt."

Leia laughed. "I don't think she's over-bothered by that concept, Treize. I think you're wasting your breath."

"I can only try," Treize replied, using his grip on his daughter's hands to wiggle them back and forward and then bring them to his mouth to blow on them lightly. The toddler giggled, squirming against his hold. "She seems happy, at least."

"As well she should," Leia said. "She's being spoiled rotten. Between you and Zechs, she's been fussed over all day. She's going to be terrible when you go back after Christmas."

Treize looked at his wife, worry in his eyes. "Is it a problem?" he asked. "I know keeping her in a routine is better for her but…." He stopped as his wife smiled again and shook her head.

"It won't do any her any harm really. She always misses you when you go back anyway, so…." She shrugged. "And I wouldn't deprive either you or her, or Zechs, of the time together. He really is very sweet with her, isn't he?"

Treize smiled back, nodding. "You should have seen them last night. The pair of them fell asleep on the couch in my room." He sighed. "It's a shame he'll never have children," he said.

Leia frowned. "I don't think you can say that, you know. He might never marry but… there are ways. And he could always adopt."

Treize bit his lip, looking at his wife's earnest face and wondering what to say. She knew, to some extent, who Zechs really was but he doubted she'd ever really considered the implications. Even if she had, she was Colony-born, the daughter of a wealthy businessman rather than a member of the aristocracy. She'd been raised to be as lady-like and self-effacing as anyone could wish in a Duchess, instilled with the intricacies of manners beyond even Treize's own, but she hadn't grown up in the rarefied air of the old Noble and Royal Houses as Zechs and Treize had. She didn't understand that any children Zechs had would have to be biologically his and born from a legal marriage for them to be counted as the heirs to his crown, just as she didn't understand that, unless he had a son, the Khushrenada Peerages would pass to some obscure male relative on Treize's death and not to Mariemeia.

It was the way the Titles had been created in the first place, and it was unchangeable – unlike his cousin Dorothy, who could claim the Catalonia Duchy in her own right when her father died, his daughter's title was hers by courtesy only, just as Leia's was as Treize's wife.

"Treize? Is something wrong?" Leia asked, taking in his pensive expression.

The officer shook his head. "No, my love. Nothing. Merely thinking too much, as usual." He offered her a smile and looked around at the giant shopping centre they were stood in the middle of. Having completed the obligatory visit to Father Christmas with Mariemeia, they were at a bit of a loose end. "Is there anywhere you wanted to go?" he asked.

"There are one or two things I wanted to get," she admitted. "We need something for Otto – I didn't want to get anything for him until I'd met him – and he asked me this morning if I could buy his present for Zechs for him. He hasn't had chance to sneak off alone yet. He gave me the number of his account," she added, seeing Treize raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"I wasn't worried about the money, my love. When did you and Otto become friends?"

Leia shrugged and blushed a little. "We were… talking yesterday, at the ball whilst you were with Zechs and in the afternoon when you were looking over the estate's books. You… you don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not!" Treize insisted. "I was simply curious, that's all." He reached out with his free hand and wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders, drawing her close. "Where should we be heading for, then?" he asked, looking down at her affectionately.

Mariemeia chose that moment to screw her little face up and wriggle uncomfortably in Treize's hold. "Mama," she protested, reaching her hands out to Leia.

Leia stepped into Treize and lifted the little girl out of his arms swiftly, leaving him to blink at her, surprise showing in his face and meeting the curiosity Marie's exclamation had caused.

Leia gave him an impish smile. "Excuse us," she murmured. "We have the sudden urge to go powder our noses."

Ginger eyebrows rose as Treize flicked his eyes between mother and daughter and back again. "Oh," he said softly, as understanding dawned. "So young?" he asked, reminding Leia that he'd spent weeks reading every book about child rearing and development he could lay his hands on after he'd learned she was pregnant.

"She's a fast learner," Leia answered, then dared to tease him, delighted by the expression on his face. It was rare to see him so unguarded. "You're her father – are you really surprised she's precocious?"

It was worth the risk. She watched him blink, utterly off-guard, and couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up.

He watched her as she giggled, his eyes warm and intent on her face. "No, I suppose I'm not, at that," he replied, a touch ruefully. "And I was hoping I'd done with child-prodigies with Zechs."

"I'm afraid not," Leia told him, then reached up and kissed him on the cheek swiftly. "Excuse us for a moment, will you?"

He nodded immediately. "Yes, of course. Actually," he added, when she started to step away, "I have one or two errands of my own to run. Can I meet you somewhere in half an hour or so?"

Leia put her head on one side, considering. There was something a little guarded in his tone of voice, a shade of what looked like embarrassment in his eyes. "That would make it nearly lunchtime," she said. "Would it be easier to meet at the restaurant we arranged with Zechs and Otto?" she offered, wondering what had triggered the sudden discomfort.

"Probably," Treize agreed immediately, his face lightening again. "You have your phone?" he asked.

"Yes," Leia answered, patting her handbag with her free hand.

"Right, then." Treize opened his mouth to say something else, and stopped when Mariemeia squirmed uncomfortably. "Never mind," he finished instead, returned Leia's kiss on the cheek and turned on his heel to walk away.

Leia watched him go, her eyes tracking his tall, trim figure easily until Marie protested again, and then she hurried towards the nearest Ladies Room.

It was a quick visit, accomplished without mishap, prompting Leia to praise her daughter as she set the little girl down and kept hold of her hand, lending her balance as she toddled along. Treize and Zechs still carried her everywhere, as they had since she'd been born, favouring both the greater freedom of movement it granted them and the greater security it let them provide for Marie, but Leia preferred to let the child exercise her own legs now that she'd found them. It was good practice, good exercise and good at burning off excess energy. She could be carried later, when she was tired and falling asleep.

Leia listened dutifully as her daughter began to babble in a dialect that was uniquely her own, a mixture of Russian and English and French and half a dozen other languages all overlaid with meaningless baby noises – the joint gift of multilingual parents and carers and a phenomenal natural talent for languages. She understood about one word in ten of what Marie actually said, and was quietly happy when she recalled that that a month ago it had been one in twenty, even if it was confusing to have her child speaking to her in languages she, personally, didn't even begin to understand.

There was the odd word slipped in, here and there, that was completely new in Marie's speech. The words were harsh and beautiful, and her accent – perfect as always, Leia had no doubt – rather sing-song and a little haunting. Only one person Leia knew of spoke that language, and it wasn't her husband. She wondered if Treize knew his ward had been slipping in to see Marie in the middle of the night.

Shaking her head, she began steering the little girl in the direction of the restaurant she and Treize favoured when they were in this particular shopping centre, navigating crowds and last minute shoppers with practiced deftness.

As she guided Marie on to the escalator that would take them up to the next floor of the centre, a flash of red hair in the harsh lights caught her eyes and she turned her head to see her husband exiting through the door of one the larger pharmacies, one hand tucking something into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Leia frowned curiously, wondering what on earth Treize could have had to buy from a chemist's that they didn't already have at home. Then she recalled the awkwardness he'd displayed telling her he needed time to run his errand, and the curiosity became worry.

* * *

Otto shifted the bags he was carrying to one hand and used the other to gesture lightly to something ahead of him. "Hon," he began, nudging Zechs from the automatic pilot he'd fallen into to steer through the crowds. "Is that Treize?"

Zechs turned his head, looking through his darkened glasses. "Where?" he asked.

"There." Otto pointed again, indicating a figure stepping through the door of the same pharmacy he and Zechs were making for.

Zechs ran his eyes over the neat hair and the smart jacket and trousers and nodded. "Yes. What he's doing in there?"

"Buying something for Leia?" Otto wondered but the blond shook his head.

"He did all his shopping for her weeks ago. What would he be buying her from a chemist's anyway?"

"Perfume?" Otto suggested. "He's been buying something, at any rate," he added, noticing the older man slip something wrapped in the garish packaging of the pharmacy into his jacket.

Zechs shook his head. "Treize and Leia both have their toiletries custom made for them." He scowled, obviously thinking.

"The same thing you want, then," Otto said. "He could be picking up a prescription."

"He's not on any prescription meds," Zechs replied, scowl deepening.

"That you know of," Otto corrected. "Oh, for the love of God, angel," he spluttered as Zechs began to look really worried. "The man probably has a headache from all the screaming kids and wanted some aspirin!"

"Where are Leia and Marie, then?" Zechs demanded instantly.

Otto shook his head indulgently. Apparently, he wasn't the only one being guarded.

The dark-haired boy had adapted quickly to the sudden protective streak Zechs had been displaying all day, putting it down to the trauma and the events of the night before, trying to be amused rather than annoyed when the blond kept putting himself between his smaller companion and the crowds of people. "Who knows, sweetie?" he soothed. "Maybe Leia wanted some time alone, too."

Otto grinned a touch, thinking quickly. "Or maybe," he started, voice low and confiding, "she and Treize play kinky cross-dressing games and he wanted to surprise her by wearing a new shade of lipstick tonight. Bright red, to really get her engines firing."

Zechs turned a look of utter disbelief on his friend. "Otto!" he spluttered.

"What, sweetheart? You don't think scarlet is his shade?" Otto tilted his head to one side, curls tumbling lightly. "Hmm, you might be right. He'd be better with a nice light pink, I think."

The blond was staring at him, beyond stunned. "You can't say things like that, for Christ's sake!" He shook his head. "And I don't even want to think about how you know so much about make-up!"

Otto just laughed. "I have three sisters, beautiful, and about a dozen female friends who all know I'm gay. You don't want to know how many shopping trips I've been dragged on by them. You pick things up."

"Right," Zechs agreed blandly, his attention on Treize's figure as it began to move away. "You don't really think…?"

Otto choked, then began whooping with laughter. "Good God, no!" he exclaimed. "Gullible, thy name is Zechs!" He giggled for a few moments, ignoring the killing glare the blond was pinning him with, and then sobered. "Look, if you're that worried about it, why don't you catch him up and ask him? He could have wanted a million things, from Alka Seltzer to Zero Frizz hair serum. He's perfectly capable of telling you to bug off if it's something personal."

Zechs hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No," he said softly. "If we catch him up, we might not get away alone again and I don't want him knowing about this."

Otto canted Zechs a puzzled look, wondering what it was about a repeat prescription that the blond didn't want his guardian to know about. Surely, Treize knew about Zechs's various lotions and potions? Otto had been seeing the half a dozen different bottles of pills in his bathroom cabinet for two and half years now – even if he'd never explained precisely what they were all for, the other cadet had never made a secret of having to take them.

Explanation or not, the past few months had allowed Otto to begin taking guesses at what some of those pills were for. He'd seen one too many incidences of Zechs swallowing them last thing at night, first thing in the morning and when he was particularly shaky to not have some idea.

He also wasn't blind to the fact that the blond had been downing those pills as though they were toffees over the last few weeks of the term. There had been a week or two were Otto had been half-afraid the other boy was going to over-dose, either deliberately or simply through overuse.

"Any reason why not, hon?" he asked quietly. "Treize shouldn't have a problem with anything you've been given by a doctor." He paused for a moment. "He does know you've been given them, doesn't he?" he queried, suspicious.

Zechs flushed. "He knows I've been given some," he answered, looking away guiltily. "It's his personal physician that writes the scripts for me."

Otto raised an eyebrow. "But he doesn't know about others," he commented, not needing to make it a question. Zechs's reaction had already given him the answer.

Zechs nodded, swallowing slowly. "Something like that," he admitted. He shot Otto a nervous look. "It's just… he still thinks I'm taking exactly the same meds as I was when I was seven, and in nearly the same dosages. I'm not; I haven't been for a while now."

"So, why not tell Treize that? If it's all stuff you've been prescribed by his doctor, what can he say? You'll catch hell if he ever finds out you've been lying to him."

Something about that statement made Zechs look miserable. "I know, but there's no good way to tell him the truth. He wouldn't understand it. He wouldn't want to," the blond added quietly. "It's not… You know what they're for, right?" he asked suddenly, looking at Otto with an expression that made something inside the shorter boy twinge.

"I've had some idea for a while, I think," Otto admitted. "More, after yesterday. It doesn't matter," he added softly, wondering if Zechs needed the reassurance. The other cadet looked embarrassed and a little afraid. Otto doubted he'd been planning to explain all this when he'd mentioned he needed to pick up a couple of prescriptions.

But, if even half of what Otto thought he'd learned the previous day was true, then it was a wonder his friend wasn't locked in a padded cell somewhere, screaming. Otto had read the accounts of what the Alliance had done to the citizens of the Sanc Kingdom and it didn't take much imagination to realise what kind of horrors his roommate must have lived through. A few pills a day seemed rather unimportant in comparison.

"Thank you," Zechs said quietly, his voice not much more than a whisper, and Otto smiled at him gently, slipping an arm around his waist to give the blond a quick hug.

He let him go just as fast, in deference to their location, and gestured airily. "What about it?" he asked. "Surely Treize doesn't have a problem with it?"

Zechs shook his head quickly. "No, of course not. It's just that…" He sighed. "When I was younger, I took a couple of tablets a day and, once they got the meds tailored right, I was fine. For years, that was it – and, for Treize, it still is.

Otto nodded. "Sounds simple enough."

"It was," Zechs agreed. "It stopped working towards the end of our first term at the Academy. Treize might have noticed there was something wrong, if he hadn't just found out that Leia was pregnant. He married her during our first Christmas break, and I used his distraction to fool him into making me a Doctor's appointment he thought was just a routine check-up. I couldn't tell him the truth – he would have blamed himself for upsetting me with all the sudden changes he had to make to our lives." He shrugged. "When I told the Doctor I didn't think the pills were working anymore, he promptly explained that it was nothing he hadn't been expecting. He said that it was partly because, for all that Academy life is regimented, it's also very variable, depending on which course we're taking and when we have training sessions."

Zechs coloured a little and shot Otto an embarrassed look. "He also said it was because I was… well, older, and that the changes in my body chemistry were having an effect on how the drugs worked."

Otto chuckled. "Ah, pesky things, hormones," he teased. "Fun, though, don't you think?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and saw Zechs smile.

"Yes," the blond agreed, appreciating the lighter moment, then shook his head again as they turned into the chemist's perfectly in step with each other. "He then asked me a battery of about the most embarrassing questions I've ever had to answer in my life – and that includes the Academy physicals," he added, making Otto wince. The quarterly medicals were his least favourite part of his decision to join the Specials, even if he did appreciate that the thoroughness of the exams was necessary. Discussing his personal life with grim-faced Doctors in excruciating detail was not his idea of fun.

Zechs caught his wince, and laughed. "I know," he agreed. "It was awful, even when he explained that he'd needed to know so he could begin changing my prescriptions. Apparently, the drugs I'd been taking had never been meant to work forever, just to keep me stable until I was old enough to start assuming active control of which of my meds I took, and when, depending on what I felt I needed. Slowly, he stopped me taking most of my old pills and began phasing in new ones as I reported symptoms and fed back on what worked and what didn't. The current combination is the result of that trial and error, and the dosage –within certain limits – is mine to set as I feel I need it. Every drug I take is on a standing repeat order that I can pick up from anywhere in the world."

Otto nodded his understanding of all that, and then frowned. "Fair enough. So, why not tell Treize all that?" he asked, puzzled. "I understood why you didn't tell him that first time, but why haven't you since then?"

Zechs sighed softly. "At first, because I didn't know how to tell him I'd lied to him, and because I didn't want to hurt him – he thinks I've been improving this last few years, not merely taking more effective drugs. More lately, it's because he'd insist on supervising and I don't want him to. It'd be the equivalent of giving him the key to my journal." He shrugged. "I don't always want him knowing instantly if I've had a bad night, or that I'm finding my workload stressful. And I really didn't want him knowing what I was getting up to with you. He doesn't need to know the details of my sex life!"

Otto had to laugh at that. "Fair enough, angel," he agreed, grinning at some of the odd looks they were getting from people who'd heard that last little statement. "Why would he?" he wondered.

Zechs grimaced ruefully. "Because the more my body chemistry fluctuates, the more shifts I have to make in the dosages to compensate. It's naturally getting worse as I get older – I was told it'll start to level off in my early twenties – but any…ah, activity on my part triggers shifts that aren't natural at all. A little light stress relief of an evening and there's a variation in my dosage right there." He shrugged. "Adrenalin, endorphins, they all have an effect and sex is both controlled by, and controls, the release and build up of a lot of powerful chemicals. If Treize were smart enough – and he is – he'd know exactly what I'd been doing the night before, just by what pills I took before breakfast!"

"Oh, no," Otto commented, shaking his head. "Oh, no, no. That would be unpleasant. I can entirely see why you're keeping this one close to your chest, love."

The blond nodded. "Quite. The other thing is that he'd be horrified if he knew what I have to take now. So far, I've only ever needed to touch the repeats for one of the pills and that only once or twice, but last term was… not fun. If he'd had any idea what I was taking just to keep from screaming some days, he'd be worrying himself sick. I don't want that either."

"So, what he doesn't know won't hurt either of you, is that it?" Otto asked, watching as Zechs requested and received a small bag with his medications in it from the girl behind the pharmacy counter.

"Something like that," the taller boy agreed, leading the way back out of the chemist's. "There's also the fact," he added as they headed for the restaurant they were due to meet Treize, Marie and Leia in, "that in another few months I could be posted half way across the globe from anyone I know. I needed to know, for my own sake, if I could manage without help. Before I was in a situation were other people's lives could be depending on me doing so," he added.

The smaller cadet nodded soberly. "I see." He frowned. "Just to play Devil's Advocate for a moment, what will you tell Treize if he ever finds out?"

Zechs shrugged tightly. "He will find out, eventually. It's a matter of time, and I know it." He sighed softly. "I'll probably tell him exactly what I told you just now and hope he understands."

"He'll understand the last sentiment at least, love. I'm sure of it," Otto reassured.

Zechs nodded. "I hope so."

The dark haired boy took the chemist's bag from Zechs and tucked it into one of the other shopping bags, making sure it was completely out of sight. He caught the grateful smile and returned it, then let it broaden into a full grin.

"So, does sex help or hinder your dosing yourself to the eyeballs?" he asked lightly.

Zechs glared at the phrasing but answered readily enough. "It helps," he replied. "But don't pretend you didn't know that."

Otto chuckled. "I might have noticed what a bitch you get to be if you don't at least jerk off in the shower, yes," he countered. "But I had to check." He shot a quick glance at the restaurant they were approaching, noticing Treize's tall, slim figure hovering just outside it, and smiled wickedly. Wrapping his arm around one of Zechs's he leaned into the taller cadet and looked up at him coyly. "I'll just have to spend the rest of the year fucking you blind, won't I?" he asked quietly.

The blond choked. "Otto!" he spluttered, going a fabulous shade of scarlet.

Otto merely laughed at him and let him go, waving a cheery hello to a rather bemused looking Treize.


	20. Chapter 20

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Twenty**

_December 24th AC 190_

Khushrenada Ancestral Estate – Moscow

"Left foot – no, _left_ foot, Zechs. Christ!"

Treize sighed heavily as Zechs came to a dead stop in the middle of the room and scowled furiously. "What is the problem?" he asked sharply. "It's not that hard."

The blond glared at him murderously. "Yes, it is. I've told you and told you that I can't dance – why won't you believe me?"

"Because you can dance. I've seen you." Treize ran a hand back though his hair, wincing at the dampness of it. "You're one of the most graceful and physically co-ordinated people I've ever met. You can pilot planes and mobile suits. You can fence and target shoot. You're on God only knows how many sports teams at the Academy. A simple waltz really shouldn't be beyond you."

"So, why can't I do it then?" Zechs fired back. "If it's that easy I should have mastered it hours ago." He folded his arms and stared at the floor. "Just because you're a good dancer…"

Treize rolled his eyes. "Don't start sulking," he warned. "I won't stand for it."

"I'm not sulking!" Zechs exploded. "I just can't do this and I don't know why you won't accept that!"

The older man raised an eyebrow at the outburst, seeing the frustration in every line of his ward's body and reflecting silently that maybe leaving it until the morning before the Ball Zechs was supposed to dance at to teach him the steps hadn't been the best of ideas.

The instructor had collared Zechs immediately after breakfast that morning, catching the boy before he could slip away with Otto under the pretence of disposing of the wrapping paper that had adorned Treize's birthday presents and his anniversary gift to Leia. Zechs had groaned and grumbled, protesting as he followed Treize through the house to the fencing salon and been good-naturedly told to put up and shut up. The boy could certainly spare an hour out of his so-busy schedule to learn a skill that would prove very useful to him in the coming years – especially if Treize could take that hour out of a day that was his twentieth birthday, his wedding anniversary and the date of one of the estate's most important social functions all rolled into one.

That had been almost three hours earlier, and contrary to Treize's expectations that he would have taught Zechs the basics of all the traditional Ballroom dances by now, the blond was still struggling with the simplest form of a standard waltz.

Treize just shook his head. "There is absolutely no reason," he repeated, for what must have been the dozenth time, "why you shouldn't be able to this." He wondered if he were trying to convince himself of that more than he was trying to convince Zechs. "It's six steps – left-right-left and then right-left-right. Forward, side and close; forward, pivot and close." Automatically, Treize began walking it through as he talked, moving his body through the steps he was describing. "Then repeat going backwards. Back, side and close; back, pivot and close. That's it. Simple."

Zechs was watching him, his eyes showing growing thunderclouds. "And it looks it when you do it," he agreed. "But you can dance and I can't."

Treize stopped, dropping his body from the Ballroom posture it had automatically assumed. "But why not?" he demanded.

"I don't know!"

Treize opened his mouth to shout back, checked himself and closed his eyes to count to ten slowly. "There's no need for you to shout at me, Zechs," he said eventually. "Try it again," he ordered, turning the music back on with a flick of the little remote control he was holding.

The younger man glowered but began moving obediently. He pulled himself up into the posture Treize had shown him and picked his left foot up, sliding it forward exactly as he should.

Treize watched critically as the blond skimmed through the first steps, noticing that the boy's basic form was lovely, light and smooth. As Zechs stepped into the second repeat, the older man began murmuring along with his movement. "Right forward, left pivot, right close -" He winced instantly. "Right, close. Put your weight on it and move off again with your left foot!"

It was the same stumble that Zechs had made over and over. "Sorry," he murmured, having tried, again, to step backwards with his right foot.

"Never mind," Treize sighed, stopping the music.

Zechs stopped moving and dropped to sit in a heap on the wooden floor. "I can't do this, Treize," he moaned. "Please will you just accept that?"

The older man rubbed a hand across his eyes, shaking his head. "Why?" he asked. "You can dance with Otto, you can march in parade. This is just a combination of the two. Left-right-left-right, all the way through."

Zechs just shrugged silently, putting his chin down on his drawn up knees and hiding behind the fall of his hair.

Treize watched him do it, then sighed and crouched down next to him. "I can't believe you're going to disappoint Leia tonight because you can't remember which foot to use," he teased, trying to lighten the tension between them. "And what about all those other lovely young women whose hearts you'll break by refusing them?"

There was an angry noise from the younger man. "Does Leia know you use Ballroom dancing as foreplay?" he snapped.

No doubt, Zechs was trying to wind his teacher up so that Treize would storm off and leave him alone, but his comment just made the older man chuckle. "I'm fairly sure she does," he replied smoothly. "I've used it on her often enough."

There was another angry noise, and then Zechs shook his head. "Well, you'll forgive me if that doesn't inspire me to learn. I wouldn't want to be accused of leading anyone on again!"

"Oh, for God's sake…" Treize muttered, getting to his feet. He left the younger man sitting in the middle of the floor and went to take a drink from the bottles of water he'd brought with them.

Otto had tried to warn Treize early on that Zechs hadn't had a good night; certainly the blonde's behaviour had been off all morning, even through the quiet family breakfast celebration they'd had. It had been wrong the evening before as well – the good humour and even temper Zechs had displayed before lunch fading away throughout the afternoon until, finally, the trainee had stomped off shortly before supper and locked himself in his bedroom for the rest of the night, refusing to answer his door to anyone, Treize included. Otto had even reported that Zechs had locked the connecting doors between their bedrooms.

Looking back at Zechs's slumped figure now, his t-shirt and training pants rumpled, his hair mussed and messy, Treize added another point to the mental tally he was keeping, taking slow, deep breaths to ease away his own irritation. The last thing he needed to do was trigger a screaming match between the two of them.

Quietly, Treize took a last sip from his bottle, turned the music back on and set the remote down on the table, and made his way to the equipment locker at the back of the room. He swiftly selected two fencing sabres and turned back to the younger man.

Drawing to a stop by Zechs's side, Treize reached down and tapped him on the back of his head to get him to look up, and then offering him a hand. "Get up," he instructed quietly.

Zechs took his hand, gripping it in fingers that were already beginning to form calluses from the control levers of mobile suits. He pulled himself to his feet wearily, refusing to meet Treize's eyes.

"Come on, then," Treize said, holding out one of the sabres, and Zechs's eyes came back to his with a snap, wary and confused.

"Sorry?" Zechs asked. "You want to fence? I thought you wanted me to learn to dance?"

The redhead shrugged. "You're obviously spoiling for a fight with someone," he taunted lightly. "It might as well be me." He stepped back and flicked his blade up in a salute. "En garde," he warned.

Zechs shook his head. "I'm not… I've no intention of…." he stumbled, bringing his own blade up automatically and backing off as well, until the two of them were a few feet apart.

"Could have fooled me." Treize shrugged. "En garde," he repeated, his voice sharper, and saw Zechs's body tense subtly. "Pret? Allez!"

There was a fraction of a second's stillness, and then both of them moved almost simultaneously, launching probing attacks designed to wake up muscles and test defences.

Treize and Zechs had been in the habit of engaging in swordplay for as long as they'd known each other, indulging in the sport whenever they had the whim and the opportunity. Despite the age difference between them, they'd always been relatively well matched as opponents, both possessing the reflexes and the raw talent to be worthy pupils to the various instructors they'd had provided for them over the years.

A decade of practice had left both men highly skilled in the art, sure of themselves and their opponent, and their resulting duels were fast paced and intense. They'd become a convenient form of good exercise, good fun and a good way of venting all the aggression and frustration that otherwise both would have buried and ignored.

It was that safety valve Treize was hoping to provide for Zechs today, having deliberately chosen to fence with sabres for the more aggressive style they demanded despite it being his least favourite of the three styles. It was pleasing to see that it was working – the loosening of the blonde's body and the lightening of his expression as they moved through the sequence of attack-parry-riposte over and again gave that away.

Picking up the tempo of their match, Treize closed the distance between them enough to graze the blonde's sabre with his own, sliding steel against steel until they were separated by only a few inches. He pressed a croisè parry, forcing Zechs's incoming attack out of line and his blade up, and the younger man blinked – that wasn't a move he was used to seeing from Treize.

Instead of pressing his advantage, the older man smiled wickedly. "Score the first touch and I'll let you off learning to waltz," he teased gently. He danced backwards to avoid Zechs's quick recovery and renewed offence. "Win and I'll even make your apologies to Leia for you."

Zechs followed him just as swiftly, his feet whisper soft against the wooden floor. "You're a bastard," he told the older man shortly. "You had this planned from the start, didn't you?" he accused.

"Such language," Treize chided softly, chuckling. "Sport of gentlemen, and all that." He moved to parry again as Zechs rapped the top sections of their blades together with a quick flick of his fingers and knocked Treize's sabre off-line. "No, I didn't plan this," he corrected, "but I've always…"

He broke off as he realised the beat had been a feint, having to move fast as Zechs flicked his fingers again to coupè, circling the tip of his sword around Treize's, and pressed an attack from entirely the opposite direction than the one Treize had been expecting. It was accompanied by some beautiful and very skilful footwork that had the redhead raising an appreciative eyebrow even as he avoided the attack and immediately retaliated with his own. "I've always been good at thinking on my feet," he finished impishly. "Very nice," he added admiringly. "Where did that come from?"

"Oh, do shut up," Zechs replied, a little frown setting between his eyebrows as he began drawing on every bit of skill he had with a blade.

Treize found himself laughing softly from pure enjoyment as the pace and pressure of their bout picked up again, the impetus of the match shifting back and forward between them fluidly without breaking the phrase. For one reason or another, the instructor hadn't fenced with his cadet since before the summer break and he quickly learned that Zechs hadn't been made Captain of the Academy fencing team at the start of the new year for no reason. Some time in the last six months, the blond had picked up a whole raft of techniques Treize hadn't known he had and now was employing them freely and expertly. He'd picked up a fair bit of physical strength along the way, too – as the older man learned when the blond drove straight through one of his parries with pure insistence.

It made the teacher think, though, and when Zechs tried the same thing again, he turned his body into the force. In a split second, he had disengaged his blade, passed it straight under Zechs's and extended it smoothly to score a touch against the younger man's stomach with the blunted, protected tip of his sabre.

Zechs dropped his posture the moment he felt the pressure. "Damn!" he swore. "I thought I had you there!"

Treize relaxed his own guard, smiling. "Nearly," he agreed. "Very, very nearly. You've been practicing."

Zechs nodded. "Major Larkspur has been helping to coach the fencing team this year. He's very good."

"Obviously, if he's taught you all that in three months. I shall have to talk the man into a match after a Christmas." He offered his free hand and took the sabre when the younger man held it out, taking them back to the equipment locker. He stopped at the little table to take a drink on his way back and had to swallow very quickly when Zechs let out a truly heartfelt groan, his head snapping round to make sure the boy was alright.

He found Zechs looking up at Treize from his untidy fringe in what was clearly supposed to be an appealing fashion. "I suppose this means I have to go back to learning to waltz, doesn't it?" the blond asked forlornly.

The redhead didn't even try to check the affectionate laughter that bubbled up. He reached out, caught one of Zechs's hands in his and pulled the cadet into his arms. "Come here, you," he chuckled, folding the boy into a firm hug.

For a moment, Zechs froze, surprised into immobility. Then he relaxed and his arms slipped around his teacher's trim waist, his weight leaning into the taller man and his head coming to rest against Treize's shoulder. He took a deep breath, letting go of it slowly and letting the last of the tension in his body go with it. "Thank you," he sighed softly.

Treize blinked, looking down at the silky head in surprise, the thought flashing through his mind that – half-grown or not – Zechs might actually still need and want more physical contact than he ever admitted to.

He dismissed the idea as soon as it formed. Even if it were true – which was something Treize highly doubted – the blond wasn't really a child anymore. Affectionate gestures such as this one had been bordering on the inappropriate for some time now, and were only more so in the light of Zechs's recent admissions.

This could very well be the last time he would hold his friend like this, Treize realised suddenly, the pang of dismay accompanying the thought almost painfully intense. In a few short months, the blond would be a fellow officer – a fellow adult. The time for such innocent intimacies would be gone forever.

Without being aware that he was doing it, Treize tightened the hold he had on his ward and began rocking him side to side, employing the automatic, time-honoured motion in time with the music that was still playing. It was only when Zechs wriggled and shuffled his feet that he noticed what he was doing, and a truly wicked idea came to him at the same time.

Moving slowly, taking small steps, Treize began walking Zechs through the pattern of the waltz, leaning into him and pushing with his hands to get him past the point were he had been stuck all morning.

It took three repeats of the sequence before he felt the boy reach for the next, correct, step without the prompt and Treize smiled. Bending his head, he put his mouth near Zechs's ear and murmured, "I told you it wasn't that hard."

Zechs's head lifted from Treize's shoulder, his expression drowsy and confused. "What?" he asked sleepily, making Treize's smile turn warm and curious. Would he have put the boy to sleep altogether if he'd kept quiet another few minutes?

"The waltz," he answered, keeping his thoughts to himself. "I told you it wasn't that hard." He gestured with one hand as they completed the sequence of steps again. "See."

Zechs seemed completely nonplussed for a moment and then he shrugged. "Huh," he muttered. "It really isn't, either," he admitted.

"No. Next bit?" Treize asked as they continued the pattern, moving around the room smoothly. He shifted the way they were standing so that they were in a proper Ballroom hold, with Zechs leading, and began reeling off a list of instructions for the blond to follow.

When Otto appeared in the door to the room half an hour later, to relay a message from Leia that lunch was ready, he found the two of them laughing as they glided across the floor, footwork precise, fluid and perfectly matched.


	21. Chapter 21

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_December 24th AC 190_

Khushrenada Ancestral Estate – Moscow

"Have I told you tonight how lovely you look?" Treize asked his wife softly as they stood together to one side of the dance floor in the Great Hall, looking down at her to the exclusion of every other person in the room.

To his delight, Leia blushed a little as she turned her eyes to his and nodded. "You have, yes," she told him.

"Ah, good." He lifted a hand to brush his fingertips across her slender shoulder, her bare skin soft and warm even through the gloves he was wearing with his uniform. "I've meant it every single time, too. You look wonderful. I don't think there's a man in the room that can take his eyes off you, and that includes Zechs and Otto."

The blush deepened. "I don't think that's true," she protested quietly.

Treize smiled. "I do," he insisted, catching her hand in his and lifting it so he could kiss the back of it. It was nothing more than the truth, after all.

Leia had disappeared after lunch with her dresser and her stylist to get ready for the Ball that night, emerging after several hours work to literally make Treize's jaw drop in admiration. He'd known his wife was tall and pretty, her figure good, her blue eyes and curly hair attractive. He'd seen her dressed up for formal events before, and known that she could pull off dresses and styles that few other women would attempt. None of that told him where the elegant beauty he was standing next to had come from.

Some alchemy of make-up and hairstyle and clothing had been worked on her by her help, enhancing every good feature she had. Treize had taken one look at her when she stepped into the foyer to greet their guests with him and fallen in love with her all over again.

From the amused expression on Zechs's face as he'd walked away, knowing his company was no longer needed, the older man's reaction had been written all over him.

Treize scanned his eyes over his wife again, caught by every little detail. Golden hair pulled into an intricate upsweep had left a few tantalizing curls free to tease a long, graceful neck and the slender porcelain shoulders revealed by the cut of her gown. Makeup had widened and emphasised her soft blue eyes, left her complexion faultless and made her lips a moist, inviting pink. Her dress, a daringly old-fashioned departure from the standard designer couture she normally wore to such events, fit her as though it had been made for her, white silk hugging smooth curves and sweeping over long legs. Delicate black beading drew the eye to the bodice of the dress and a narrow decorative belt, the buckle made of pearls only a shade lighter than the fabric, showed off a waist Treize could almost get his hands around. She was flawless, fragile, untouchable, fitting into his old Russian fairytale Ballroom as though it had been designed to show her off. He wondered what he'd done to deserve the effort.

She caught him staring at her, and blushed all over again, dropping her gaze to avoid meeting his. "Don't do that," he said, using gentle fingers to tilt her head up again. "I want to look at you." He moved his fingers to brush across her cheekbone, feeling protective and possessive and amazed all at once. "Ti takaya krasivaya," he murmured. "Ya tebya lyublyu."

Leia had learned enough Russian in the two years of their marriage to know she was being called beautiful and told he loved her. It made her blush deepen another shade but she smiled happily and her eyes sparkled. "I love you, too," she whispered back, mindful of the guests bustling about well within earshot.

Uncaring of those same guests, Treize bent down and kissed her lightly, carefully, knowing that it was bad for her makeup and unable to stop himself all the same. She responded willingly, resting her hands on his shoulders for balance.

"Leia…" he breathed, breaking the kiss through sheer willpower. He looked at her helplessly, then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he apologised quietly. "I shouldn't ask, but…"

She stopped him mid-sentence by putting her fingers against his mouth. "Shh," she bade gently." Her teeth bit into her lip for a moment before she smiled. "If you'd like to… tonight… I can…" she offered, and there was a look veiled behind her eyes that made him shiver slowly.

"You have to ask?" he wondered, and she looked away again, laughing a little.

A soft cough broke Treize's attention before he could move to draw her back to him, and he turned his head to see Otto and Zechs standing a few paces away, perfectly matched in their Dress uniforms. Zechs was holding two glasses of wine in his hands, and both boys were smiling. If there was a hint of fond amusement in Zechs's face and a touch of nervousness in Otto's, then it did nothing to spoil the effect.

Otto spoke first, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat before asking hesitantly if he could steal Leia away for the next dance. He got a pleased smile from her and a quick nod of consent from Treize, and led her away, murmuring to her quietly.

Zechs waited until they'd disappeared into the press of bodies on the dance floor before he took her place at Treize's side and offered the older man one of the glasses. "Here," he commented offhandedly, sipping from his own. "It might help but I wouldn't count on it."

Treize took the wine and just stared at it dazedly for a moment. "Sweet merciful God," he sighed eventually, shaking his head and taking a sip. "If you put Otto up to that then I have to thank you for the timing," he said.

Zechs smiled. "I might have," he confessed. The smile took on a teasing edge. "You looked rather like a drowning man and I thought you might appreciate a life-raft. Temporarily," he added. "You're on your own once the last guest has gone home."

Treize canted his student a speculative look, hearing a certain amount of knowing in his tone. "That's an appropriate enough analogy, I suppose," he allowed.

He took another sip of the wine, then smirked. "And thank you very much, but I have every intention of being 'on my own' when my guests have gone home." He looked back out onto the dance floor, catching sight of his wife as she wove her way through a foxtrot in Otto's arms. "She really is amazing, isn't she?" he asked, his eyes staying with her as she moved.

Zechs followed the line of his gaze for a moment before he turned a half step to face Treize properly, his eyes searching the older man's face over and over for something. "Yes," he replied eventually, something shadowing his voice and touching the crystal colour of his eyes. "Yes, she is. You're very lucky."

Treize smiled, the expression radiant and hesitant at the same time, as though he wasn't sure whether he quite believed in the cause of it. "I know," he admitted softy. He glanced after his wife again, then back to the boy at his side. "Believe me, I know," he repeated.

Zechs nodded his acknowledgement, but he was still looking at Treize intently, his gaze unreadable as he held his teacher's. "You are," he murmured, looking away. "Of course, so is she," he added softly, then lifted his wine glass and drained it completely.

The music changed as he swallowed the last mouthful, becoming the pretty waltz Zechs had spoken of at the Lepedev's Ball. "Excuse me," the blond said immediately. "I'm going to steal Leia from Otto and get this dancing thing over with. You can have her back when I'm done," he told Treize, setting his glass down on a nearby table.

He walked away, into the crowd, leaving Treize to watch after him, curious and a little taken aback. What had that been about?

The puzzlement vanished completely when Leia returned to his side a few minutes later, smiling and flushed from her dancing. "I can't believe he learned to do that in only one morning," she exclaimed.

Treize smiled down at her. "He didn't stand on your feet too many times then?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not once," she replied. "He's really very good. They both are," she corrected immediately.

"Better than I am?" Treize quizzed, trying to look upset.

Leia laughed at him softly. "Of course not!" she told him firmly, reaching out to rap him on the arm for his silliness.

"Oh, good," Treize replied, matching her laugh. "Let me prove it?" he suggested.

"Please!" Leia said immediately, offering him her hands and letting herself be pulled back to the floor and into his arms.

* * *

Leia's lady's maid bobbed a quick curtsey to Treize as she opened the door to his wife's suite, barely registering on his consciousness as she dismissed herself a moment later in the manner of one born to service and familiar with her employers.

Treize had handed Leia over to the woman at the suite door some twenty minutes before, walking his wife back to her rooms after their last guest had gone home and leaving her with a slow, wanting kiss.

The moment she'd closed the door behind her Treize had turned down the corridor and all but run up the flight of stairs to his own rooms, taking the steps two at a time.

He'd stripped out of his uniform once he was there – tossing it into his linen basket to be collected by his valet, Falin, in the morning and cleaned, pressed and returned to his wardrobe for whenever it was needed next – and stepped into his shower to wash the sweat of his evening's dancing away.

Drying himself carefully once he was clean, he'd turned to his sink to brush his teeth and check his shave, touching his cologne to his pulse points again and wrapping himself in his heavy, ankle length dressing gown – all in less than ten minutes.

He'd then been forced to make himself sit down and drink a cup of coffee, giving Leia time to complete her own similar preparations, before he could reverse his path between their rooms and tap lightly on her door.

The quick smile the maid had given him when she answered it had told Treize that his wife was ready for him, and he crossed her spacious sitting room with sure strides to knock on the half-open bedroom door. "Leia?" he asked, keeping his voice low. "May I come in?"

It was a very old-fashioned little ritual they were keeping, Treize well knew that, but it was one he liked nevertheless. There were practical reasons for the two of them keeping separate bedrooms – not the least of which was that Treize had the sleep habits and the reflexes of a career soldier – but if he were honest, he'd sustained it in his marriage for occasions like this.

Barring their first stolen night together on L3, when it had been Leia who'd come to his room, Treize had always had to make this venture into his wife's suite if he wanted be with her.

There was something about it, something about the idea of knowing he'd been invited every time and that he was a guest in a space that was entirely hers and private, that made his pulse rate jump a little. For whatever reason it worked, it added to his air of anticipation, of doing something that was exclusively his to do and always a privilege.

It was romantic, though he'd never have admitted that aloud, it was fun, and it was a thrill – a secret that only the two of them shared.

Leia looked up at the sound of his voice, lifting her head from the book she was reading by the light of a small lamp. She smiled warmly and set the volume aside immediately. "Of course," she said softly, holding one hand out in welcome.

As Treize had showered and shucked his uniform for his dressing gown, Leia – with the help of her attendants – had changed from her frock, washed away her make-up and taken her hair down, brushing it out over her shoulders until it gleamed in the dim light.

She was sitting by her dressing table, the chair turned slightly to face the door, graceful and ready for bed in the thin peignoir and nightgown she was wearing. As he stepped into the room, she stood up and moved to meet him, the full skirt of the robe falling and swirling around her as she walked.

Treize watched her, admiring the way the glow thrown by the single night-light played over her form. He reached out as she came near, setting his hands on her shoulders lightly and smiling down at her. Her nightwear was smooth and cool under his fingers, the silky fabric a dusky-pale rose pink that matched her lips and turned her complexion to cream. For all that she was covered from throat to wrists to ankles, the gown fit her so perfectly, and its material was so insubstantial, that it did nothing to hide her body from the gaze he turned on her, holding her still just a few inches away from him.

Leia's hands came up to rest on his wrists as he held her in place, and then slid over the sleeves of his robe to curl around his neck as Treize drew her close, catching her in his arms and pulling her up and into his body. She felt weightless in his hold, slender and pliant, and her hair was warm and soft when he lifted a hand to brush a lock of it back from her face with gentle fingers. "This is very pretty," he murmured, tracing the other hand down her side slowly. "For me?" he quizzed.

Leia laughed gently. "Well, it's hardly for Marie, is it?" she replied teasingly, her gaze alight with mischief.

Treize laughed with her, letting his eyes tell her he appreciated the tweaking. "I was wondering," he countered. His hand stroked again, more firmly, then slipped around her waist to hold her more securely. "What did I do to merit the effort?" he asked.

"I thought I should spoil you a little," Leia answered. "It is your birthday, and our anniversary, after all. So whilst we were out shopping yesterday I visited a little place I know." She smiled. "Do you like it?"

Treize looked over her once more, unhurriedly. "Hmm, yes. Definitely." He brushed her hair into place again, letting his fingers settle against the back of her head lightly. "It's Christmas, too, now, you know," he started.

"Is it?" Leia asked. "Happy Christmas, then," she told him, tilting her head to one side impishly.

"Happy Christmas, indeed," he murmured, and kissed her.

She kissed back immediately, tasting of the champagne she'd been drinking, crisp and fruity, her mouth warm and yielding. Treize traced her lower lip fleetingly with his tongue, then pressed a little deeper and felt his body begin to stir slowly when she responded in kind.

The soft sound she made when he pulled her closer woke memories of the first time he'd kissed her like this. She'd tasted of smoky red wine that night, not champagne, and been stiff in his arms with nervous inexperience, telling him without words that he was the first man to touch her that way. It had been heady stuff, enough to make him drunk even if the wine hadn't already, and only sheer terror at the idea of hurting her had let him keep anything of his wits about him.

She wasn't nervous or inexperienced now and her body moulded to his perfectly, but he was still the first and only man to touch her – a thought still enough to knock his senses a little. He echoed her soft sound of pleasure and lifted his head to look down at her.

As he had on every occasion he'd shared her bed, from that first night to this, he met her eyes directly and murmured, "Are you sure?"

It was a question that had been asked in many ways, from frightened desperation to polite formality. This time, it meant more than it had at any time in their marriage, and her immediate nod of consent was consent to much more to just his making love to her. It was unlikely to happen so quickly, he knew, but there was the chance that when he left her later to return to his own bed, he'd also be leaving her with the spark of his next son or daughter inside her.

"Yes, Treize," she murmured, and her smile was glowing and utterly sure.

The expression left him feeling a little stunned. "God, Leia," he breathed. "Lyubimaya…"

Treize kissed her again, feeling arousal well though him as his hands went to the belt holding her robe closed. His fingers fumbled for a moment, then found the knot and pulled it loose, freeing the folds of fabric to fall back from her body, revealing the matching slip and her perfect figure.

Unable to resist, Treize settled his hands under the robe, his palms finding Leia's sides and tracing the curve of her waist to her hips and then back up, until he was holding her with his hands on her ribs, his thumbs extended a scant half inch below her breasts.

Her breath caught, anticipating his next touch, but he slid his hands behind her instead, skimming the line of her spine and catching the robe to help her slip it from her shoulders. The gauzy fabric fell away easily, pooling at her feet, leaving her in just the slip she was wearing underneath it. It did nothing to bar her body from his eyes, every line and shadow of her showing ghostly through the silk.

Leia blushed a little, looking away from the sudden heat that flared in Treize's gaze. His hands tightened on her shoulders for a moment, reflexively, and then loosened as he pulled her close and bent his head. "Vy ochen' krasivy," he murmured, his breath warm against her mouth. "Ya budu vsegda lyubit' tebya."

His voice was slightly hoarse, his accent throaty and heavy on the words, marking them as his first language even though he rarely spoke with any accent at all. It made Leia shiver, knowing she was the cause, but not knowing how. Treize saw her lift her eyes back to his wonderingly, but lost anything else she might have been about to say or do under the sudden impulse to kiss her again.

He only left his mouth on hers for a few moments this time, then moved away, feeling her arms wrap around his shoulders again as he brought her onto her toes to meet him. Her little fingers twined into the short clipped hair at the nape of his neck and began twisting as he traced a path from her lips to her throat with fleeting little kisses.

Leia tilted her head without conscious thought, giving Treize room to nuzzle at her neck. One of his hands slid down her back to her waist again, gripping and stroking as the other slipped the thin strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and bared her skin to his searching mouth. He teased the line of her collarbone and made her gasp when his fingers skimmed her breast.

It was barely contact for the first seconds and then his hand settled, caressing through the silky material she was wearing, dipping his head to flit his lips across the very top of the sensitive skin. Leia made another small wordless noise, and melted her body against his fully, making the officer sigh with pleasure as he abandoned his petting and pulled back to use gentle fingers to settle the strap back into its original place.

Treize looked at Leia with sapphire eyes darkened with want, searching her gaze with his intently before he bent swiftly and caught her up off the carpet into his arms.

"Treize!" she murmured, surprised, as he stepped carefully around her discarded robe and took her towards her bed. The maid had turned down the counterpane, revealing crisp, fresh sheets that Treize settled his wife into the middle of carefully.

Leia reached for him immediately and he sat gracefully on the edge of the bed for a moment before swinging his feet up and stretching out next to her. She rolled to face him and he drew her back into his arms to kiss her again.

Her fair skin starting to show the first signs of a rising flush, Leia seemed to lose some of her passivity. As Treize reached down and drew the sheets and covers over the two of them, Leia let her hands slide from their grip on his shoulders to the collar of his dressing gown, and under it. She mimicked the teasing he'd subjected her to, her fingers tracing over his collar and down his chest – light, sensitive caresses that accomplished their goal eventually when she reached the belt holding his robe fastened around his body.

Treize turned Leia onto her back as she slipped the knot he'd tied, shrugging to help her push the heavy cloth away from him. Her hands were soft where she stroked him, and she was smiling as she roamed over the skin she'd exposed. Treize tucked the sheets more closely around them both and pulled his robe free completely, tossing it lightly onto the end of the bed for later. Slipping the other side of her gown this time, his mouth went back to her throat as one arm curled around her waist and the other braced his weight away from her.

Leia's perfectly shaped and polished nails scratched at Treize's skin delicately as she ran her hands over him, skimming lightly over every inch available to her above the sheets. It made him shiver in reaction, the caress all the more effective for being utterly unconscious on her part. The both of them were breathing a little faster than they should, one or the other intermittently making quiet noises or giving soft sighs as they touched – Treize could, and had on other occasions in the past, have lingered where they were for hours, keeping their play pleasing and gentle without any real end in sight.

It wasn't what he wanted tonight. It had been more than three months since he'd been with his wife and they'd been flirting subtly with each other all evening, knowing where it was going as soon as their guests had gone home. He was more than ready for her, his body humming with arousal, his erection firm against his belly – if Leia had been Valadin, Treize would have been growling and swearing at her, demanding she let him at her, and right now, but he couldn't do that with his wife. She was a different woman – a different kind of woman – and if she wasn't laughing at him and tormenting him as Liliya would certainly have been, then neither was she subject to being pinned down and roughly taken when he'd had enough of it.

Lifting his mouth from her skin, Treize drew his wife to him, cradling her body against his as he slid the hand around her waist down to her knee to catch up a handful of her nightdress. He heard her give a little gasp of his name as he pressed hard against her hip, his state obvious through the thin cloth separating them, and then give another as he pushed the skirt of her slip up her thighs. He settled his hand under the material, letting it rest low on her stomach for a moment before he slipped it between her legs and sought for soft curls and moist flesh.

Leia had jumped away from him in frightened shock the first time he had touched her so intimately, forcing him to haltingly explain what he was trying to do. Scared to death of hurting her, he'd been desperate to make sure she was ready for him; he'd needed her wet before he tried to enter her and he hadn't known any other way to get her that way. Valadin would have ordered him to go down on her, the female pilot he'd been dallying with in his last combat posting certainly wouldn't have objected, but even if he hadn't wanted to keep eye contact with her, doing that to Leia had been unconscionable.

As with their kisses, his touch was familiar to his wife now. Already damp, she arched into his hand as he pressed his first and second fingers inside her, moaning softly.

His breathing growing short, Treize watched his wife as he worked her, enjoying the way her skin flushed rosy and her eyes flickered shut. Her bright hair was spilled over her pillows as she writhed supply, one of her hands twisting into the bolster by her head, the other locked onto his arm, her nails biting deep.

She was never loud, but her cries were sharp and high-pitched, ardent as she reached her peak.

Treize gave her a moment to draw a first deep breath, then pulled his hand free of her and rolled his weight to cover her. Gripping himself in damp fingers, he stroked himself once or twice to transfer the moisture and then sank himself into her.

She was soft, wet silk inside, hot and still fluttering from her climax. Treize caught his breath as he pressed slowly forward, then let it go in a pleased sigh when his hips were flush against hers.

Leia's eyes flickered open to meet his as he looked down at her, watching her face intently for every little reaction. He lent down to kiss her and her hands wrapped around him again, her small fingers gripping his shoulders to draw him closer, keep him above her and anchor them both against the feel of touching so closely all at once.

Treize broke their kiss when Leia murmured his name against his mouth. Taking a moment to shift his position, he slid his arms under her, holding her to him and bracing his weight at the same time.

Her body gripped his as he pulled free of her a little and yielded immediately when he slid back in, tight and not at the same moment and providing a steady friction that tingled his nerves as he moved. He kept his pace leisurely and felt the first spikes of pleasure fade into a quiet hum throughout his body, until he was floating in a haze of sensation.

It was comfortable, effortless and enjoyable. There was no urgency and no pressure for more – Treize felt as though he could sustain it forever and didn't have any real objection to doing so. It felt wonderful simply to be with his wife again, her body moving with his naturally and the sincerity in her eyes warming him. When the gentle stimulation finally pushed Treize beyond his limits, his orgasm was almost an afterthought to it all and he came with more of a feeling of intense relief and release than with shattering pleasure, his climax rising through him like a slow tide to spill from him into Leia as he gave a low groan.

Leia moaned with him, closing her eyes and going completely still as she held him inside her. They relaxed bit by bit, both breathing a shade too fast and glazed with a fine sheen of sweat.

The officer let his weight rest against his wife for a few moments, and then he gave a soft sigh of completion and pushed himself up. "Thank you," he murmured, and she smiled glowingly at him. Carefully, Treize pulled away from Leia and rolled to lie on his back next to her, feeling the mattress shift under him as she moved with him and resettled on her side, looking down at him.

One hand weaved through the tumbled strands of his hair and smoothed them back. "Happy birthday," Leia whispered, kissing his cheek lightly.

Treize opened his eyes and smiled up at her. "Happy anniversary," he replied. "Happy Christmas."

"That, too," she agreed softly.

Treize held her eyes for a moment, then reached up to brush his mouth over hers for a moment. Sitting up, he reached towards the end of the bed and found his discarded dressing gown, slipping it on and pulling it closed before he threw back the sheets and climbed from the bed.

He belted the robe securely as soon as he was standing, then turned to face Leia again, bending down to pull her sheets up around her again. He dropped one last, brief kiss on her lips and smiled. "Sleep well, my love," he murmured, waited for her to murmur the same in return and turned on his heel to leave her rooms.

Lying curled up in his own bed half an hour later, his sheets and covers warm over his naked body, Treize let his mind replay his evening with Leia at leisure, calling up echoes of sensation and the cherished memories of other nights spent with her.

One in particular seemed to linger, as it had been doing all evening – their stolen, ill-advised, life-changing first time in her father's house on L3. In the darkened privacy of his bedroom, Treize finally put his finger on why he was being reminded of that night so forcefully and it made him smile wistfully.

Just as he drifted into a contented sleep, he allowed himself to wonder if lightning could strike twice, and if the approaching New Year would see Leia give him another son or daughter to fall completely in love with.

He rather surprised himself with how much he hoped so.

* * *

_Ti takaya krasivaya_ – You are so beautiful

_Ya tebya lyublyu_ – I love you

_Lyubimaya…_ – Love/My Love

_Vy ochen' krasivy_ – You are very beautiful

_Ya budu vsegda lyubit' tebya_ – I will always love you


	22. Chapter 22

_March 2nd AC 191_

_Victoria Academy Training Vessel – Indian Ocean_

The ship rocked with the swell of the tide, the fierce wind coming howling in from the northeast whipping the water into a frenzy and turning its colour from the soothing blue it had been that morning to a sinister, stormy grey in the afternoon light.

Standing by the safety railing in the bow of the vessel, Treize ignored both the water and the weather alike beyond being grateful for the fact that they likely guaranteed his privacy. A part of his concentration was on the voices rising intermittently through the hatch behind him from the control deck immediately below his feet; the rest of it was on the two small slips of paper he was holding in his gloved left hand.

They were written in the same script, on the same stationary, but were one was a few weeks old, worn where it had been carefully folded and stored in his jacket pocket, the second was new, unmarked except for being dampened by the spray the boat kicked up as it plunged through the waves.

Drawing a deep breath, Treize scanned them both again and then quickly and firmly tore them both in half and tossed them overboard into the water. Something inside him gave a pang as he let go and he leaned over the railing to look for the scraps, sighing as he saw them sink beneath the swell.

Footsteps behind him made him straighten but before he could turn, there was a warm hand on his shoulder and a throaty voice in his ear. "Oh, darling," Valadin murmured, "please don't tell me this dreadful weather has made you unwell, too."

Treize shook his head in silence. "No," he said eventually, his voice soft. "I'm not ill."

"Thank God for that!" Valadin smiled brightly. "I thought you were made of tougher stuff. We Russians always are." She put her head on one side, her eyes scrutinising him sharply even though her smile didn't fade. "I hate to disturb you, darling," she said. "I know you're not supposed to be on duty until the exercise this evening but this squall is playing hell with the cadets and I rather need your help to deal with them all. Major Larkspur is caught up with the equipment checks and Lieutenant Vashram was seasick when we had smooth sailing, never mind now."

Treize shook his head again, a humourless smile touching his mouth. "How that woman passed this part of the course herself is beyond me," he replied. "Has there ever been a year when this cruise didn't run straight into a storm?" he asked.

Valadin laughed. "Of course not, darling. We schedule it deliberately so. What would be the use of supposedly sea-trained cadets who've only been exposed to good weather conditions!" She offered Treize an impish smile. "Miss Vashram came to us through the Graduate Officer program," she explained. "She took the accelerated course at the Australian Academy."

Treize raised an eyebrow, then shook his head again. "I'd pretend surprise but…." He let a shrug convey his meaning and Valadin nodded her agreement.

"We tried to convince the Alliance that our officers cannot be half trained the way theirs are but they would not listen. Miss Vashram is undoubtedly very clever but she is not… enough. She was too old, and her training was soft."

Treize could hardly argue with Valadin's conclusions. Narissa Vashram hailed from Delhi and was possibly the most intelligent person Treize had ever met. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman was pure genius and he understood that the Specials had wanted to recruit her into the ranks so she could apply that genius for them, but she – like all the other Officers who joined the ranks her way – had only been subjected to a six month truncated 'polishing' course. She'd been taught the rudiments of command and the basics of how to fire a gun but that was it. She lacked all the intensive, specialised training that Victoria Academy put its cadets through and it showed, badly. Even next to a senior student like Noin, Vashram came off clumsy and ill informed; comparing her to Valadin was just painful.

She was on board the ship for the training cruise so that she could gather the data she needed to improve the Specials water-based mecha, but so far, she had spent more of the cruise in her cabin, crippled with seasickness, than she had collecting her figures. Treize wouldn't have cared, except that it had left them one officer short and therefore taken his attention from the duties he was responsible for in order to handle hers as well.

It shouldn't have been a problem, wouldn't have been in previous years, but Treize's focus wasn't on his duties at all. Twice since the boatload of cadets had departed from Mogadishu harbour, Valadin had caught and covered for slips Treize had made.

The Russian Major hadn't needed more to decide that there was something troubling her occasional lover. She'd been needling him to tell her what for days now, partly from curiosity and partly from genuine concern. She didn't seem to recognise that Treize would have spilled it all to her if he'd just been able to find the words to make sense of everything that was spinning around his head.

He sighed his acknowledgment of Valadin's request and took a step away from the bow rail to fall in at her side. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked. "And how bad are they?"

"Oh, most of them are as sick as dogs and puking their lunch all over everywhere," Valadin answered cheerily. "We'll have to sort them out if you want any hope of starting your exercise on schedule."

Treize smiled tiredly. "I'll start it on time anyway," he said. "There's no reason not to."

Valadin frowned, assessing her younger companion closely again as they began walking down the length of the ship. "You delayed for those that were space sick last month," she pointed out, puzzled and wondering if Treize was simply being more vicious than usual because of whatever was troubling him so. "Why not now?"

Treize shrugged, drawing his uniform cloak around his body more closely, both for the warmth it granted and the protection from the rain, and to prevent the wind from catching it and lashing it about. "They had to wear vacuum suits for the space exercises last month," he replied. "I'm sure you remember how dangerous vomiting in a pressure suit can be. I didn't fancy killing half a dozen cadets to make the point for the rest." He shrugged again. "There's nothing hazardous about sending them out nauseous tonight, so they'll go and may God help the cadets that throw up in their mecha."

Valadin laughed delicately, the sound somehow disturbing. "Oh, indeed," she agreed. "I should have known better than to think you didn't have a reason."

"You should, yes." Treize ducked under the dubious shelter of the overhanging bridge, holding out his hand to help steady Valadin as the ship gave a particularly vicious lunge. "We need to go to combat dress, I think," he said offhandedly as they continued their walk. "Before one of us breaks an ankle."

"You mean, darling, before I break an ankle," Valadin corrected, smiling again at Treize's chivalry. "Or freeze to death," she added impishly. She looked down at her self deliberately, extending one long, stocking clad leg out in front of her and making sure to point her toe elegantly in its graceful, low heeled court shoe. "Lovely, my uniform is but not very practical."

Treize watched her posing without his expression changing at all. "About as practical as white breeches with all this water. Make the cadets stand on deck for a few minutes and you'll know instantly which of them breaks dress regs with their underwear."

Liliya put her head on one side as she straightened up again. "Oh, now, that idea has merit!" she chuckled. She waited for Treize to respond to her suggestion, for him to roll his eyes and demand that she behave as he normally would, and found her smile becoming a frown when he didn't say anything at all. "Treize? Darling, is something…."

Treize cut her off almost mid word. "Do you want to get changed before we deal with the cadets?" he asked.

Valadin sighed – he was still stonewalling her it seemed. "It might be best, yes. They should probably change as well. They would have needed to before the exercise in any case."

"Give me a few minutes, then. What do you want to do with them?"

"The cadets?" Valadin asked. "Herd the ones that are ill into their rooms, keep the rest out on deck and set them some work to keep their minds off the weather. Other than that, there's nothing else we can do."

Treize nodded. "Right. Well-practiced routine, then? I seem to recall you treating my class in exactly the same way."

"Of course." Valadin smiled up at him again, starting to say something else and stopping when Treize's watch beeped, high-pitched and discrete.

The redhead lifted his wrist and glanced at it, pressing a button to stop the sound and reset what looked like a counter in the glimpse Valadin got of it. She watched, curious, as one of his hands vanished under the heavy folds of his jacket and reappeared with a small plastic box.

Treize shook two brightly coloured pills from it and swallowed them dry, then canted her a look that was equal parts mischief and apology. "I'm afraid," he explained, "that my toleration for the weather has a great deal more to do with forward planning than with Russian blood."

It made Valadin laugh. "But it's the Russian blood that made you plan ahead, darling!" she teased, then opened the little purse strapped to her belt and withdrew an identical plastic box to shake it at him. "Or maybe, since I know for a fact that Julian has one of these as well, just good training!"

Treize's expression finally warmed as he looked at her. "Perhaps," he agreed. "I'll take the starboard section if you take the port?" he offered and caught her quick nod of agreement as he held the door for her so she could duck out of the rain.

Dressed in his combat gear and with the belt of his regulation trench coat pulled tight against the wind, Treize found that the weather was far more tolerable as he scouted along the decks, occasionally dodging green-looking cadets as they scampered for the sides of the ship.

Those that were actively ill, he sent back to their rooms and to bed – an order designed more to get them out of their instructors' hair and to keep them from vomiting all over the decks that would shortly be needed for the combat exercise, than for the good of their health. The rest he ordered into combat dress and then to the large flat parade space at the rear of the ship.

Just from what he was seeing, Treize calculated that better than three quarters of the trainees were suffering some kind of seasickness, and almost half were actually ill, but his eyes were peeled for three of his cadets in particular.

He found them sitting huddled together in the lea of a stairwell, leaning on one another for warmth and stability. He smiled when he saw that Zechs and Otto had positioned Noin between them and so that they were blocking the worst of the wind and rain, and then smiled again when he drew close enough to them to hear their conversation.

"Glad to see some of my class have sense," he said to them as he put one hand on the wet metal of the ladder and looked at them.

Three faces lifted to look at him, all rather paler than they should have been and marked by grim determination. "Going over our training seemed a better idea than sitting and bemoaning the weather," Otto sighed. "Can't do anything to change it, after all."

"Very true, Mr Maxillian, and very wise. Why out here?" Treize asked, idly wondering if their logic really was as commendable as it looked.

"Have you been down to the cadet bunks, sir?" Noin asked in reply. "It's horrible down there. Sitting about in that, not being able to see the movement of the ship, would just have made us all sick. I'd rather be cold and wet!"

Treize smiled again, nodding. "Quite true. Now, if…."

"Oh, thank God!" Zechs sighed suddenly, sweeping his sopping hair back with one hand and getting a good look at his teacher. "Please tell me you were about to say we could get changed?" he asked, having registered that his teacher was wearing the heavy knit sweater, fatigue pants and assault boots of the Specials combat dress under his coat rather than his breeches and jacket.

"Not that I appreciate the interruption, cadet," Treize chided gently, "but yes, that's exactly what I was about to say. Go and throw yourselves under a hot shower and change, and meet on the parade deck in twenty minutes. You may use your cadet-corporal codes to open the showers in the training rooms if the bunks really are that bad," he offered as a reward for their earlier good thinking.

Noin and Zechs nodded their gratitude and began getting to their feet wearily. "Are we still conducting the exercise tonight, sir?" Otto asked.

"Of course," Treize replied. "And on that subject, may I have a moment of your time, Mr Marquise?"

Zechs held himself still, signalling his agreement as his friends slipped past him towards the hatch that would take them to the cadet bunks.

"At ease, Zechs," Treize said, the moment they were out of sight. "I'll assume you're ready for the exercise tonight?" he asked.

"Of course," Zechs answered easily.

"That's what I thought – I had no intention of discussing that with you." Treize drew a deep breath, steeling himself. "Are you free after the exercise tonight?" he asked quietly. "I need to talk to you."

"About what?" Zechs asked immediately, frowning. A second later, he shook his head. "Sorry, sir," he apologised. "Of course I am."

Treize waved away the breach of discipline with one hand. "It's all right, Zechs," he murmured. "It's not a professional matter in any case," he explained.

Zechs's scowl deepened instantly, his blue eyes worried behind their darkened glasses as he looked at his instructor. "It's not?" he demanded. "Then, what…?" He stopped, seeing something in the older man, in the way he was standing or in his face, which he didn't like. The last time Treize had started a conversation between them like this had been back in Zechs's first year, when the teacher had confessed he was about to become a husband and father unexpectedly. "Treize," he started again, carefully picking his words. "Leia and Marie are all right, aren't they?"

Treize nodded slowly, shifting his gaze out to the waves. "Marie is fine, Zechs. So is Leia."

There was a soft breath as a strong hand caught Treize's arm. "And you?" Zechs demanded quietly. "What about you? There's nothing wrong with you – is there?"

The intensity of the question brought Treize's focus back to his cadet. He looked down into the pale face and forced himself to smile. "No, there's nothing wrong with me," he promised. "I'm sorry, I'm doing this badly. There's nothing for you to worry about. I simply need to talk to you privately." He waited until the scowl began to lift from the younger man's face, being replaced with pure curiosity. "How are you feeling?" he asked lightly.

The question was a distraction but it appeared to work. Zechs sighed wearily and shrugged. "I don't know how you're doing it," he grumbled. "You look perfectly fine and I feel like I'm going to chuck my lunch back all over the deck."

"Most of your classmates already have," Treize pointed out lightly.

"Don't remind me." Zechs winced visibly. "You really haven't been down to the bunks, have you?" he asked. "I'm sleeping up here tonight!"

"Don't be silly; you'll freeze." Treize tilted his head to one side, considering. "If it's really that bad, you can come and sleep in my sitting room. Bring Otto and Noin with you as well, unless they're ill by then. I'm not dealing with any of you if you're being sick."

"Thank you!" Zechs's tone was truly heartfelt, even as he shivered again in the cutting wind.

Treize laughed. "Go and get changed," he ordered. "You'll feel better when you aren't so cold and wet."

"I doubt it," Zechs said. "I think it's being cold and wet that's keeping my mind off it. How are you doing it? Really? You're absolutely fine, and so's Larkspur and Vlad. Do you develop an immunity to seasickness or something?"

"Partly," Treize granted. "We do have a couple of months of training you don't, and experience does do a lot. For the rest – well, it's an Officer's secret but I suggest you go and have a good look through that little case I gave you at the start of the term. The solution may well be in there."

Zechs brightened. "Oh?" he wondered. "I'd about forgotten about that. I haven't even opened it yet!"

"This is as good a reason as any then. I intended it to be useful." The older man made shooing motions with his hands. "Go on with you. I have your classmates to attend to!"

"Yes, sir," Zechs snapped. "Thanks, Treize," he added. "I'll see you later."

"You're welcome." Treize smiled. "Oh, and Zechs? If you want to make yourself feel better temporarily, leaning over the stern rail to be sick will work about the fastest. I speak from experience when I say it's helpful, and if you're still feeling ill before the exercise starts, I advise you to try it."

Zechs blinked. "I'll… take it under advisement," he replied slowly. "And thank you for the warning. Do I want to ask what you're planning to do anyone who throws up during the exercise?" he asked daringly.

Treize raised an eyebrow at the speed at which Zechs had interpreted his hinting. "I suspect not," he confirmed dryly.


	23. Chapter 23

_March 2nd AC 191_

_Victoria Academy Training Vessel – Indian Ocean_

Zechs braced himself, hands firmly on his controls as the support platform for his Cancer began to drop and the bow doors of the training ship hissed open to let the turbulent, stormy water of the ocean flood in. His training told him when to press buttons and flick switches, engaging power and checking systems, keeping the suit idling under his hands as the incoming sea and lowering platform combined to let the first trickles of water ebb against the Cancer.

All around him, Zechs could see running lights flickering on as other cadets engaged their own suits – either Cancer like his, or the alternate Pisces – but then his view went hazy as the water washed against his view ports.

He felt the moment when his Cancer lost contact with the platform and began to float as a jolt in the pit of his belly. The last slivers of light through his ports disappeared under bubbling water and only his intensive, repeated drilling prompted him to apply the first threads of power to his engines, making his suit strain just slightly against its securing chains as he reached for the toggle to his two-way radio.

"Cancer unit seven, flotation achieved. Requesting cast off clearance," he said calmly and clearly, and waited for the reply in silence.

It took a deft hand and delicate touch to the controls to make a Cancer or Pisces suit leave its parent ship without causing excessive splashing or damaging the platform and chains. Zechs could accomplish the manoeuvre smoothly every time, and he was proud of that achievement, but he wondered if even Treize suspected how much he hated the sea-based units. Zechs had promised himself the first time he piloted the Cancer that he would never touch the suit again once he graduated.

Learning the rudiments of Cancer and Pisces in the training simulators had been no more or less challenging and no more or less enjoyable than learning the Aries or the Tragos or the Leo variants had been. Each suit had its own kinks and quirks to be mastered and played with and Zechs had found pleasure in doing so.

His attitude had changed sharply in his second year, the first time he'd experienced the submersion process in the huge marine tank at Victoria Academy. Watching his ports be covered over, feeling his suit floating with all that water pressing down on it had unnerved him so badly that he'd almost failed the exercise. Where ground ops made him think, space ops delighted him and air combat thrilled him, underwater exercises left him feeling nothing but cold, hard dread.

Sitting in his pilot's chair now, Zechs shivered, chilled despite the warmth of his heavy sweater.

"This is Aquarius. Cancer seven, you are clear to disengage and begin operations." The voice of the traffic controller was level in Zechs's ear. "Set bearing according to your screens at five knots."

Zechs flicked his eyes to his data-screen, reading the course as it flashed up neon-green on the black background. His feet and hands began working in concert, smoothly bringing the suit onto the requested heading, feeling it wallowing slightly in the water when his application of power was a little too hesitant.

Leaving the confines of the suit deck behind him, he looked back to his screen and adjusted his course again when he saw the rendezvous coordinates for the group he was assigned to appear on it. He took a deep breath as he pressed his hands down evenly to lower his bow pitch, sliding the control levers forward slightly to increase his speed and pushing with his left foot to turn the Cancer to port.

Slowly, the suit levelled out at its designated cruising depth and Zechs steeled himself to carry out the rest of his orders, wanting nothing more than for the exercise to be over and done with.

Overseeing the live fire exercise from the command console in the middle of the control deck, Treize watched as the dozens of suits cleared the submersion deck in precisely arranged order, one eye on the chronometer in the top right corner of the screen and the other on the captured data streaming across the bottom. He was half listening to the chatter of the controllers as they directed their charges, the rest of his attention on the conversation he was having with his two fellow officers as they stood side by side.

It was something of a surreal experience even after three years of repeats. Both Valadin on his left and Julian Larkspur on his right were full Majors, and as such, both technically outranked Treize's Captaincy, but at that moment – and for the duration of the live fire exercise – command was Treize's, and Larkspur and Valadin deferred to him perfectly.

It was the way the Specials worked. Rank notwithstanding, Treize was a battlefield officer where Julian was an engineer and Valadin taught covert technique. Competent as they all were, Treize was the expert in front line operations, so he had the final say in how the cadets performed under those conditions.

There was also the minor matter that all three of them knew this would be his last year as a teacher. It hadn't been officially announced yet, but rumours abounded that Treize would return to a combat posting in June, one no less than command of his own Wing. There was no question that some of the cadets he was scrutinising now would be going with him and neither Liliya nor Larkspur begrudged him the right to make the decision as to who himself.

"Give me the dock clearance stats, please," Treize asked quietly, and Valadin keyed in the commands that would give him the required data. Scrolling figures bloomed across the screen. "Rank according to speed, then efficiency, then absolute control, compensating for suit variance and berth number. I want to see pilot performance only."

The data flickered again, resorting itself. Larkspur made a noise low in his throat. "Numbers are a little down across the board," he commented and Valadin laughed softly.

"Not quite," she argued. "Position one – Luca Noin. Two tenths of a second faster than her previous best."

Treize nodded, scanning his eyes across the screens.

"Your little protégé still doesn't like Cancers, Khushrenada." Julian's long fingers indicated a line of data. "Position six – Zechs Marquise. His engine engagement was a shade off."

The redhead glanced up at the engineer. "By how much?" he asked.

"Fractionally," Larkspur admitted. "It's almost as though he hesitated for some reason. Has the weather been getting to him particularly?"

"No more than any of the others," Treize answered. "It's a fault in his piloting I haven't been able to correct." He reached out and played his fingers across his controls fluidly, splitting his screen to track the top ten pilots closely on one side and to show his general stream on the other. "Establish a reassessment on those criteria every five minutes throughout the exercise," he instructed. "Eliminate any pilot who stays in the bottom ten positions for more than three cycles and flag their files for retraining. Eliminate the final pilot in each group to arrive at their designated co-ordinates. Eliminate any pilot who makes any gross error by textbook standards. Give me the others in absolute order and by group rankings."

For a moment, all three officers bent over their consoles, keying commands, and then Treize paused to watch the captured data for a few seconds. "Staging achieved, mark," he said. "Clear for live fire?"

Valadin was a little quicker to respond. "Clear," she reported, Larkspur's voice hard on her heels.

"Clear," he concurred.

"Clear for commencement of live fire," Treize acknowledged. A sharp hand gesture signalled the weapons officer standing ready by her own console, and a swiftly entered code turned over weapons control over to her supervision. The young woman immediately directed her own subordinates to begin relaying the activation codes for the mobile suits' weapons to their pilots.

Blocking the suits weapons from firing until an 'activation code' was input was the only difference between the exercise and a real mission. Had it been an actual attack, and the pilots of the suits full officers, then the weapons would have come on-line with the input of their serial numbers at the same time as the rest of the suit powered up. The Specials trusted its officers not to open up with live weapons without command authorisation.

But, even though the pilots of the suits for the exercise were senior cadets, they were still trainees and the Academy was not prepared to allow half-trained children to roam around with all the destructive capacity of a mobile suit in their hands without having some outside control. All the suits the Academy used in training therefore were fitted with an extra filter between the controls and the weapons – a filter that only lifted when the pilot typed the correct code into the suit's system. Each code was unique to each suit, each code could only be used once and each was generated only a few hours before the start of any exercise by the Engineering Officer assigned to the mission.

For this exercise, that had been Julian Larkspur – it was what he'd been doing when Valadin had requested Treize's help that afternoon.

Waiting in silence again, the three instructors watched as the controller's panels all bloomed red warning lights as each cadet brought his or her armaments to full power. The weapons officer turned back to Treize and nodded once when her screens showed all the suits had come on-line.

"Full military power, mark," Treize said into his pick up, letting the computer make a note of the time and his acknowledgement. He noted out of the corner of one eye that Larkspur had put one hand out and was letting it rest lightly on a button set into the panel in front of him.

The switch was orange in colour, to stand out, and set slightly apart from any other control; it didn't exist in any other ship anywhere throughout the Specials. Larkspur's hand would not move from that control for the duration of the exercise – he'd just become the last failsafe. At Treize's order, or if he personally thought it was necessary, he would hit that button and leave every mobile suit utterly dead in the water as their system's shut down completely. There was a risk of losing cadets if their suit's sank too quickly or too far to be retrieved, or if they were in the middle of something that would prove dangerous without power, but that was considered preferable to allowing them the chance to do something stupid – such as firing on each other, or on civilian traffic, or on the command ship – without any way to stop them.

Treize nodded to himself, then turned to look at Valadin and got her answering nod. "Begin scenario," he said and the deck dissolved into a tide of noise. Controllers chattered to pilots, computers whirred, and within a few seconds the whole thing was underscored by the first percussive booms of weapons fire.

Remote training drones had been deployed by the ship in the early hours of that morning to represent the targets for each group of cadets. They were controlled by signals from the master computer on board the training vessel, obeying the scenario outlines programmed into it by Treize at the start of the mission. He watched closely now as the drones began following that program, waiting to see how his cadets would respond.

The drones fired 'blank' shells that had been especially designed for training purposes. They had no armour piercing power, no ability to even crack a view port or dent a body panel, but they would impact against the suits with a convincingly jarring force and the noise of such a hit would be deafening to the pilot. They also had a small electromagnetic charge contained in them – if a suit took enough hits, or was in the wash of enough hits, then it would shut down everything but the minimal power needed to stay afloat. Such 'destruction' meant the cadet inside would be forced to sweat it out, deaf and blind, until the end of the scenario.

The figures on Treize's screen flickered as the automatic recalculation kicked in. Names disappeared from his screen completely, others moved up and down the list.

There was a soft chuckle from his left. "Well, darling, he might not be able to get the Cancer away from the ship smoothly, but he handles it well enough when he's going."

Treize glanced over at Valadin to see her pointing to the new list. Noin's name still showed her to be both first in her group and first overall but Zechs, also first in his group, had jumped from his sixth position to second. It made Treize smile a little. "Noin's still clear of him by quite some margin," he replied. "She has a much better feel for underwater operations than he does."

Valadin answered his smile with her own. "True, but that's a rather relative statement. Look at the gap between the two of them and all the rest."

"You weren't expecting it?" Julian broke in. "This group of cadets has scored like that for the last three years. Noin and Marquise in at one and two, and all the others responding like actual human beings." He shook his head. "She does it through hard work and raw talent, he does it through hard work and sheer bloody reaction time. Have either of you seen him fence? He's lethal with a foil – reflexes like lightning!"

Treize raised an eyebrow slowly, exchanging a glance with Valadin. "I won the last time Zechs and I fenced," he said casually.

Valadin bit her lip, looking down to her console as she waited for their companion to walk right into Treize's set up. Larkspur had been in his senior year as a cadet when Treize had joined the Academy, returning as an instructor the term after Treize's graduation. Because of that, they'd missed each other completely until Treize had become a teacher as well, and because they taught in completely different areas and had no common social life, they still knew almost nothing about one another. Larkspur had no way to know that some of Treize's scores as a cadet had been very close to Zechs's and Noin's.

The major should have suspected – when had she ever bothered herself with less than the very best?

Larkspur shot Treize a disbelieving look. "What, when he was ten?" he asked lightly. "I know you have a reputation as a fencer, Khushrenada, but seriously…."

"Christmas," Treize replied coolly. "But it was a lot closer than it used to be. He did tell me you had something to do with that."

"Christmas?" Julian repeated blankly. "This Christmas?"

"Yes."

"Well, damn!" Larkspur exclaimed.

There was a moment of silence as all three officers checked their data screens again, then, "So, why haven't you been helping with the fencing team?"

Treize didn't look up from the stream of code he was typing into his console, tweaking the scenario he'd designed to make it harder for those cadets that were nearing success too quickly. "I haven't had time," he admitted honestly. "Not this year, at least." He pointed to something on Valadin's screens suddenly. "Pull that for me," he ordered.

"What on Earth are they doing?" Liliya asked as she complied.

With the adjusted scenario kicking in, both Zechs and Noin had been forced to change their plans on the fly. They'd reacted within moments of each other, and both had begun to do so in a fashion that wasn't in any of the textbooks for the underwater mecha. The data scrolling across her display suddenly looked like none of the prediction curves.

"Have they forgotten which suits they're in?" Larkspur asked, frowning as he called up the figures on their individual machines. "Some of these engine burns and torsional stresses look like Aries' combat readings." He glanced up to Treize, his green eyes holding a question. "Do I override them?" he asked, his hand shifting over his cut-off switch.

Treize shook his head. "No. Adjust the filters on their performance to allow them to pilot against the manuals," he told Valadin. "Will the suits take the strain?" he asked Larkspur.

The engineer was already calling up more data, running comparisons. "They're red-lining," he replied, "but only just. Noin has more margin for error than Marquise; he's still being a touch heavy handed."

"G-force tolerance," Treize said. "His is slightly better than hers. They were talking about this earlier," he confessed, thinking back to the snippet of conversation he'd heard between Zechs, Noin and Otto. "What is Mr Maxillian doing?" he asked.

Valadin gave him the numbers. "Nothing he shouldn't be. His figures put him in the top twenty, just about."

"I didn't think he'd try it." Treize recalled Otto's voice, the sincere exclamation of, _"You're both barking mad!"_ and the answer from Zechs and Noin, _"But it is possible!"_

They'd been talking about some relatively obscure principle of physics, of the tendency of water and air to react in similar fashions in certain circumstances, and theorising that, given that, it should be possible to apply the rules of combat in one to the combat in the other. It had been Noin who'd added, _"And if it's possible, and it would improve our performance, why shouldn't we do it?"_

"You want to let them continue then?" Larkspur asked.

Treize nodded, flicking his eyes across his control deck again as he made the decision. "Yes. You have my authorisation to cut them off the second you think they've gone too far. I'll fail them both for the exercise immediately if you have to," he explained.

"Khushrenada, I already think they've gone too far," Larkspur sighed. "But you're the combat officer." He keyed something new into his console. "They're insane, both of them. Or geniuses. The only question," he added, "is which of them is going to finish first in June. Anyone willing to make a wager on it?" he wondered.

"Oh, Mr Marquise," Valadin answered immediately, not looking at either of the men

Treize shook his head. "Noin," he said evenly. "Zechs is the better pilot, but Noin is better overall."

Larkspur nodded. "I think so, too," he agreed. "Sorry, Liliya."

Valadin simply smiled. "Zechs will finish first," she insisted, but she didn't explain why she thought so.


	24. Chapter 24

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_March 2nd AC 191_

_Victoria Academy Training Vessel – Indian Ocean_

"I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!"

Lucrezia Noin's voice was high-pitched and exuberant as she danced her way across the suit deck, skipping and hopping around puddles of water and piles of equipment. She waved her hands excitedly. "I knew it would work! Oh, that was so much _fun_!" she exclaimed and then threw herself at her partner in crime and wrapped her arms around his neck as her feet left the deck.

Zechs caught the slender girl instinctively, blinking in surprise at the sudden embrace. He hugged her tightly, feeling her warm and soft in his hold, and then set her down carefully to roll his eyes at her. He couldn't, quite, suppress his own pleased smile.

"Wasn't that fun, Zechs?!" she demanded.

"If you say so," Zechs agreed easily. In truth, the challenge of piloting his suit in the new way Noin had insisted would work had taken his mind off the fact that he was underwater, but he still hadn't enjoyed the exercise. Now, if he'd been flying like that in an Aries….

"I said it before," Otto interrupted, drawing up to them more slowly, "and I'll say it now. You are, both, absolutely barking mad. Ten years, the Cancer has been in use, and you two think you know more about how to handle it then every Officer in the Specials."

Zechs canted Otto an eyebrow that implied that he agreed, but he spread his hands helplessly at the same time. Noin had been pleading with him to try out her theory for months, showing him all the figures she'd been working on over and over again and begging until he'd simply not been able to say no anymore. Her excitement now rather made the tongue-lashing he was sure he was going to get from Treize worth it.

Otto acknowledged Zechs's silent communication with a warm look, then fell back a pace in surprise as Noin rounded on him with her eyes flashing. "Oh, what would you know," she told him, good-naturedly. "You've never taken a risk in your life! You could be a good pilot, if you weren't so by-the-book all the time!"

"_I'm_ by the book?" Otto spluttered. "Coming from you, that's a compliment!"

Zechs chuckled; Otto had a point. However daring Noin was as a pilot, however outspoken with her friends, she was entirely the opposite with her superiors, so spit-and-polish perfectly correct it was painful to watch.

"It's only the truth!" Noin insisted. "You're boring! If you'd be a bit creative, or do something unexpected occasionally…."

Otto began to smile slowly, drawing one hand from his trouser pocket to study his fingernails with artful laziness for a moment. "I'm boring, am I?" he asked innocently. "Really?" He looked over Noin's head at Zechs again, his eyes lit with mischief. "What do you think, hon?" he drawled. "Do I bore you? I can think of one or two things I've done that were fairly unexpected."

Zechs felt himself colour slowly. "I… ah… I wouldn't have called you boring, exactly," he managed, pinning his roommate with a killing glare. Otto let his smile become a wicked grin in response. "But I don't think Noin's exactly…." he began and was cut off almost mid-word.

"I meant as a pilot!" Noin's expression had gone from delighted to disgusted, her body tightening as she looked between the two boys angrily.

Otto sighed and rolled his eyes. "I know what you meant," he replied evenly. "Christ! There are other things in life than piloting, Miss Prim, but you wouldn't know anything about that, I guess. I was only pointing out that I can be creative enough, when it's called for."

Amethyst eyes narrowed dangerously and Zechs winced. "Give it a rest, Otto," he insisted. "You've made your point, I think, and I'm sure Noin doesn't want to know anymore."

"No, I really don't," Noin confirmed. She shook her head firmly. "You can keep your sordid exploits to yourself, thank you!" she told the dark-haired boy archly.

Otto looked her over slowly, the teasing glint fading from his eyes at Zechs's words. "Oh, really?" he asked, and his voice was cold. "Most of my 'exploits' lately have involved your beloved Zechs," he said. "Still sure you don't want to know? It's as close to him as you'll ever get."

In the momentary silence that followed that statement, Zechs shook his head and put a hand up to physically ward his friends away from him. "I'm not listening to this," he announced and turned on his heel to walk away from the two of them. He made his way into the crowd of other cadets all climbing down from their suits and heading for the stairs that led back up into the main part of the ship.

Noin and Otto stared after him for a moment, and then began to hurry after him. "I'll wait until he realises he can do better and moves onto someone interesting, thanks," Noin hissed as they moved. "Half a story is no fun and you just don't do it for me, I'm afraid."

"Honey, your problem is that no-one's ever done it for you in your life."

They were, Zechs decided, actually trying to drive him mad. Noin had walked into his and Otto's dorm room late on the first evening of the new term, taken one look at how the two of them were sprawled on one of the beds together whilst they talked, and started in on Otto without even stopping to say hello. They'd been snapping and snarling at one another on and off ever since.

They were fine with each other when they were working, as they had been on the deck of the ship earlier that afternoon. They were fine as long as the conversation didn't stray near the question of their personal lives. The second it did, however, Zechs found himself in the middle of another world war as they bitched at and scratched at and insulted one another until he couldn't stand it. He'd very quickly learned that walking away and leaving them to it was the only course of action he had available to him that worked.

What was worse, was that he was almost sure that any real dislike was completely one sided. Noin meant every word she said, honest to her core as she always was, but Otto was… playing, enjoying winding her up so he could practice his cutting brand of wit on her like a cat sharpening its claws.

It was a trait in the other boy Zechs really didn't like. It spoke of cruelty that Otto would use Noin's real feelings for Zechs – feelings she couldn't help having – as a means to torment her. The kind thing to do would be to ignore her when she dug at him, dismissing her jealousy for what it was.

Zechs had tried, repeatedly, to explain that she had nothing to be jealous about, but she was adamant that there was more going on than he said there was.

Resolutely ignoring his friends as they hurried to catch up with, Zechs swung himself out into the main section of the ship, heading for the open deck so he could think, and damn near collided directly into Treize and Majors Valadin and Larkspur as they emerged from the door of the control deck.

All three Officers were dressed as Treize had been earlier, as he'd ordered the cadets to dress, in casual combat gear: heavy knit sweaters with rank insignia on the high collars, stiff, multi-pocketed fatigue trousers and tightly laced, perfectly polished assault boots.

Like those worn by the cadets, the Officer's trousers and boots were black, but without Treize's storm coat in the way, and with the other two Officers as examples, Zechs could see that their jumpers varied in colour. Zechs, like all the cadets, had been issued a standard grey sweater and since the instructors for the parts of his programme so far that had needed him to wear combat gear had also worn grey, Zechs had presumed everybody did.

Now, he realised that those Officers who'd earned the right to personalise their uniforms did so right across the board. Treize's sweater was the same royal blue as his jacket, Larkspur's was a good forest green, and Valadin's was jet black.

All three Officers, stripped of their customary fussy finery, suddenly looked like the highly trained professional soldiers that they were; young, perfectly fit and deadly in a fight. Zechs couldn't help but stare at them as he reacted to the change – Treize and Larkspur were abruptly tall, powerful men, trim and handsome. Valadin looked like a dangerous little doll, all china skin, lithe build and cunning mind. Their combined effect was rather breathtaking.

As Zechs struggled to pull himself together, he saw Valadin raise a speculative eyebrow at his scrutiny and Julian cast him a knowing, somewhat pleased smile, but both seemed content to let Treize be the first to speak.

"An interesting way you have of piloting the Cancer, Mr Marquise," Treize said eventually. "You and Miss Noin both. Dare I ask where it came from?"

Zechs blinked, drawing a steadying breath and squaring his gaze on the wall behind Treize's right shoulder. "It was a theory of Cadet Noin's, sir. She asked me to test it with her to verify that it worked in practice and with both models of underwater suit."

"And neither of you saw the need to gain approval for the idea from your officers?" Treize snapped, giving Zechs the first hints of the temper he'd been expecting from his friend.

"We didn't think you'd give it, sir," the cadet replied automatically, then cursed himself silently for answering without thinking. It was the truth, but he didn't think it was going to endear him to the older man very much.

"Have you heard of the concept of 'painful honesty', cadet?" Larkspur drawled. "Might I suggest that it's not wise to apply it to your senior officers?"

Zechs felt himself blush, and only more so when Valadin gave a tinkling little laugh. "I think his honesty is refreshing. Possibly accurate, too. Would you have approved, darling?" she asked Treize.

"Not for this exercise and not without seeing some very convincing theoretical data first, no," Treize shot back at her, then looked back at Zechs, narrow-eyed. "Neither you nor Miss Noin are test pilots – it is not your place to risk damage to either yourselves or to expensive Academy equipment on your 'ideas'."

"Yes, sir," Zechs admitted, knowing Treize was right. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "It was only that we won't get another opportunity to try it, sir."

Valadin laughed again and Larskpur shook his head ruefully. Treize raised a chilling eyebrow. "And did neither of you think to write up your proposal so that it could have been tested by those officers assigned to such roles? Why, pray tell, did you think it had to be the two of you?"

Zechs opened his mouth to reply, closed it again and shuffled uncomfortably. Larkspur's comment about painful honesty was ringing in his ears.

"Well, cadet?"

"Ah, with respect, sir, but no one else could have tested the theory. No one else is a good enough pilot."

There was a moment of silence in which Zechs winced visibly, and then Julian began coughing convulsively and Valadin dissolved into peals of laughter.

"Oh, darling! Out of the mouths of babes and innocents!" she teased.

Treize did not seem at all amused, and his fellow officer's reactions only added fuel to the fire. "Is that so, cadet? I wasn't aware that we'd begun allowing our trainees access to our officers files, so I cannot quite think how you would come to such a conclusion. You might also want to think on the fact that your own performance with a Cancer is hardly perfection!"

The Instructor's voice was cutting and Zechs felt his face heat as his blush deepened. He'd hoped his little slip at the start of the exercise had gone unnoticed but he really should have known better. "Yes, sir," he admitted softly, "but, with respect, I've seen your final Academy scores, if no-one else's."

There was a moment of silence, in which Larkspur winced and Valadin put one hand delicately across her eyes in dismay, and then Zechs's eyes widened as he realised the implication behind what he'd just said. He drew a breath to speak and the crack of Treize's hand across his face knocked it straight back out of him.

It wasn't a hard blow but it stung despite the softness of Treize's gloves. Zechs gasped a second breath, looking up in shock, wanting to put a hand to his face and soothe the skin and not daring to break posture.

"I warned you back in September not to cross me, cadet," Treize said quietly, ignoring the reactions of his fellow officers. "I am far from required to take such barefaced cheek. If you think yourself so much better than me, consider yourself dismissed from my class. I wouldn't want you to waste your time when there's nothing I can teach you."

"Darling, that's a little harsh, don't you think?" Valadin said gently. Her eyes were looking at Treize in concern, her expression set in a frown. She spared a glance at Zechs, raising a questioning eyebrow. "I'm sure the boy didn't mean that as it sounded," she prompted.

Zechs knew he should have been all over her cue, his apologies spilling from him frantically and to the point of begging for the Instructor to change his mind – a dismissal from Treize's class now would have a devastating effect on Zechs's final exam results and so on the rest of his career – but he couldn't make himself look away from the older man long enough to form the words. Treize had locked his gaze with Zechs's and there was something in his face, in the back of his eyes, that made the blond shiver.

He studied his friend intently, a slight frown touching his face as Treize swallowed slowly and glanced away for a moment. "Treize…?" he asked softly, putting a hand out without knowing he'd done it.

The older man shook his head wearily, then brushed past Zechs as he walked away without saying another word. Valadin and Larkspur exchanged perplexed glances and Zechs turned on his heel to stare after his friend's slim figure.

He took a step to follow, recalled that the other two officers were still standing behind him and glanced over his shoulder, opening his mouth to beg a dismissal so he could run after Treize.

"Go, darling," Valadin said before he could speak. "Go after him. He might speak to you as he hasn't to me. There's been something the matter all week."

"He said he wanted to talk to me," Zechs answered absently as he snapped a salute and then sped off down the corridor at almost a dead run. Treize might not be willing to make a show of himself by running as well, but his pace was barely less than and he'd already garnered himself quite the head start. If Zechs couldn't catch him before he got a locked door between the two of them, there was every chance Treize would refuse to acknowledge him at all.

Behind him, he could hear the buzz of a swift conversation between the two officers, Valadin's accent-marked contralto and Larkspur's warm baritone making a pleasant contrast to each other. Zechs's sharp ears just about allowed him to make it out when the Engineering Instructor raised his voice a little and called, "Nice piloting, by the way!" and he found himself smiling despite his worry.

He caught a flash of Treize's red hair and blue sweater at the bottom of a ladder and cursed under his breath as he sped up. The older man had been moving to turn left along the corridor that ran across the bottom of those stairs, a sure sign that he was heading for his own rooms. Zechs had been hoping that Treize wouldn't know the ship well enough to have realised the shorter route to his quarters he was following was there but he supposed he should have known better.

Zechs practically skidded around the corner at the bottom of the steps, having taken those two at a time, and winced when he saw Treize with his hand on the keypad that would open his rooms. "Treize, wait!" he shouted.

The call made Treize turn to look at him, at least, buying Zechs the few seconds he needed to close the remaining distance between the two of them. Zechs caught Treize's arm in his hand as he stopped, preventing him from finishing his door-code as the blond panted quickly to catch his breath.

"What do you want?" Treize asked warily. "If it's to demand an apology…."

"It isn't," Zechs interrupted hurriedly. "I want to talk to you, that's all."

The instructor shook his head. "Not now, Zechs," he dismissed. He gave his arm a shake, as good as telling the younger man to let him go, and Zechs released his grip on his teacher's sleeve, only to duck under it and slide himself supplely between the redhead and the door.

"You said you wanted to speak to me after the exercise," he reminded, ignoring the heated glare Treize was bestowing him with.

"That was before you chose to show off shamelessly and then insult me in front of my fellow officers," Treize retorted. "Move, cadet, or I'll do far worse than clip you 'round the ear."

"I wasn't intending to insult you!" Zechs protested. "And you've already dropped me from your class. There's not a whole lot worse you can do." He shrugged, forcing himself to look as though he wasn't bothered by that. "What's wrong?" he asked.

The older man raised a disdainful eyebrow. "Do you really think that?" he wondered coolly. "How wrong you are."

"Maybe." Zechs shrugged, feeling the cold metal of the door against his shoulders through the wool of his sweater. In combination with the clear threat in Treize's voice it made him shiver but he stood his ground. "Treize, please," he tried, keeping his voice soft. He widened his eyes pleadingly as he spoke, knowing the older man was standing close enough to him to see the expression through the darkened glasses.

Treize sighed audibly. "Oh, for God's sake!" he muttered. Quickly, he finished keying in the code to his rooms, then used the same hand in the middle of the cadet's chest to give him a shove backwards into the space that appeared as the door hissed out of the way. "Do you have any idea how that would have looked to anyone watching us?" he asked shortly.

"Not really," Zechs answered honestly. He watched as the instructor paced across the room, passing his pupil as he moved. Zechs stayed by the door, waiting.

"I am sorry," he offered into the silence, when it became clear Treize had nothing to add to his question. "I really didn't mean to offend you. I was just trying to explain what Noin and I were thinking, that's all."

"_Were_ you thinking?" Treize enquired. "I have my doubts." He raised a hand when Zechs opened his mouth to reply. "It doesn't matter. I'm not angry at you, not really, and I won't drop you from my class. You just… picked a bad time to test my patience, that's all."

There was clink of crystal against glass as Treize poured something from the bottle he had standing on his desk into the tumbler next to it and Zechs could instantly smell the tang of vodka in the air. He risked drifting closer as the red head downed the shot he'd poured in one go, putting one hand over the top of the glass daringly as Treize moved to pick up the bottle again.

"Good to know," Zechs replied. "Why is it a bad time?" he asked gently.

Treize shook his head, his grip tightening on the empty glass until his fingertips went white and Zechs was afraid it would shatter. "Leia," he answered, making the blond catch his breath in pure fright. Treize had said earlier that she was all right, but he'd been known to lie before and he would have if he'd thought it in Zechs's best interest.

"What about her?" Zechs demanded, fear making his tone sharp.

"There's nothing for you to fret over," Treize said absently, seeming to hear the alarm, "but…."

"But?!"

The older man shook his head, looking away again. "Leia was pregnant, Zechs," he said softly. He swallowed carefully, shrugging helplessly. "She miscarried."


	25. Chapter 25

**Wild Roses**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_March 2nd AC 191_

_Victoria Academy Training Vessel – Indian Ocean_

"She miscarried."

Zechs blinked in shock, processing the words as fast as he could – he'd given no real thought to what Treize might have wanted to talk to him about, but he doubted he would have come up with that topic in any case. "I didn't know Leia was pregnant," he said, then winced immediately. That was hardly the most helpful thing he could have said.

Treize flinched a little, flicking Zechs a dark-eyed glance. "I know," he replied softly. "I'm sorry, I meant to tell you but I never seemed to have the time. Things have been so busy lately." He shrugged uneasily. "I hadn't known long myself but that doesn't excuse it."

"It doesn't matter," Zechs reassured hurriedly. Such a wonderful friend he was, to demand to know what was wrong and then make the man feel worse than he already was with trivial details. "It was just surprising." He paused a moment, scanning his eyes over the older man as he tried to think of something to say that would help. "I'm sorry," he murmured eventually, falling back on ingrained habit. "Is… is Leia all right?" he asked awkwardly, knowing she couldn't be but at a loss for anything else to say.

"I don't know," Treize replied. He freed his glass from the cadet's grip and set it down on the table before taking a step away from the boy and towards the view port. He looked out at the roiling sea blankly. "I haven't spoken to her."

Zechs found himself blinking in shock all over again, having to check himself from the automatic demand of, 'Why not?' in favour of giving himself a few seconds to come up with a more tactful way of phrasing the question. "Didn't Leia have to call you to tell you?" he asked carefully.

Treize shook his head in silent answer. "By the time she could have, I knew," he said. "The hospital called me for medical consent when she was admitted, and then again later, to discuss their findings. Her own doctor sent written confirmation a few days later. There was no real way for me to talk to her whilst she was in the hospital – a direct call internationally and through several comm. systems would have been a nightmare."

Zechs nodded, realised Treize couldn't see the gesture and said, "I guess. Is she still in hospital, then?" he wondered, knowing he was likely pushing. He couldn't pretend he knew anything at all about the medical detail of all this but it seemed unlikely that Leia would still be in hospital after this long. If Treize had received a written report, it had arrived before the ship left port and that had been more than a week ago.

"No," Treize confirmed a moment later, his voice shadowed with something Zechs couldn't quite interpret. "No, she was discharged quite quickly. She's at home, as far as I know."

Zechs knew his face had to be showing his shock and he turned away, biting his lower lip unthinkingly as he covered the need to move by reaching for Treize's abandoned glass and the vodka bottle. His hands were shaking as he splashed the clear liquid into the crystal, the tremor growing when an image of Leia came to him, a vision of her fragile and hurt and haunting the Moscow manor silently as she waited for Treize to contact her and wondered why he hadn't. As Zechs didn't, she wouldn't understand why there'd been no call, or perhaps she would start to understand what the cadet suddenly found himself praying wasn't the true reason.

Was Treize upset with his wife? Disappointed or angry? He might have cause to be – at least in his own head.

Aside from Treize's own determination that he didn't want Mariemeia to be his only child, there was the older man's family to consider and the pressures they would bring to bear on the subject. The Khushrenada's were an incredibly old bloodline, and dynastic with it, and Treize – a career soldier who'd come close to death in combat already – was the last living male in the senior branch of the family. Unless the titles and property were to pass to some cadet-line cousin on his death, he needed the son he didn't yet have.

Unquestioningly, though her own medical background should have told her otherwise, Leia was seeing her miscarriage as a failure of her husband and her duty as his wife. Colony-born, Leia had always been self-consciously aware that she wasn't the true noblewoman Treize should have had for his Duchess, and that their union hadn't been one approved by his family. She worked hard to prove herself worthy of the post, to prove Treize hadn't made a mistake in standing by his honour and marrying her, and she wasn't a stupid woman. She had to know what would happen if there were any questions over her ability to produce further children.

There were two kinds of women acceptable to the Society the Khushrenada's moved in. There were those like Valadin, who remained single and earned their place and their status by their own merits, and those like Leia and Treize's mother before her, who married, gained their husband's status, and then earned the right to it by their abilities as wives, mothers and hostesses. As far as Zechs was aware, there was no middle ground, no other option and the one never made a move to become the other. Marie's robust health, promising prettiness and obvious intelligence had done a lot to make Leia acceptable as Treize's wife, along with her natural charm, but rumours of fertility problems would set vicious scandal flying in an amazingly short space of time, threatening her position and her marriage.

What Zechs was sincerely hoping she didn't know, was that the same rumours would be a threat to Treize's position as well. For the sake of his military career, he couldn't be seen to have any outstanding weakness – which was why most of the military were unaware he was married in the first place. In terms of his political plans and his private life, it would be a disaster for his wife to prove incapable of the son he needed for the succession. If there was the possibility that the influence and money that went with the Khushrenada titles were going to pass to another branch of the family, then the movers and shakers Treize had to garner support from would be too cautious to allow him to do so. They played a long game, those old buzzards, and they wouldn't throw their lot behind a young man who could die and leave them with an empty hand. Treize's cousin – whichever one it was that was currently his heir – would become his rival and that would destroy all of the plans Treize had been brewing for the last half dozen years or so.

If Leia couldn't give him a male child, Treize would be put into the position of choosing between two awful options. He could stand by her, accepting the damage to his career, the probable failure of his plans and the cloud of false sympathy and regret that would surround him when he was at home, or he could walk away, separate from Leia, have their marriage annulled and set about finding himself a new Duchess.

The ruthlessness such a course would show probably wouldn't do his reputation any public harm but the personal consequences would be terrible. It would mean, at the least, making a mockery of the faith Zechs had recently learned his friend held with, it would mean disinheriting Marie and making her illegitimate, and it would mean breaking Leia's heart and, Zechs suspected, Treize's own.

As Zechs turned back with the glass in trembling fingers, he studied the tense lines of his adopted brother's posture, trying to read him. Treize was too astute not to have realised all the things that Zechs had days ago, and Zechs was too smart not to have figured out that Treize was claiming communications difficulties merely as a delaying tactic. What the blond didn't know was the real reason for the older man not calling his wife. He didn't want to think it was because Treize was disappointed with her, or worse, angry enough to be considering their marriage in a political light.

On quiet feet, the cadet crossed the few paces of space between them and stopped when he was standing next to his teacher, close enough to feel his body heat. He'd angled himself to be facing the older man a little and when Treize flicked an acknowledging glance at him, he offered the glass silently, seeking to judge the expression in the officer's gaze.

What was going on in Treize's head? His blue eyes were distant before he closed them and tipped the glass to drain it in one smooth swallow. His face was blank, perfectly empty, an expression Zechs suddenly realised he'd seen before from his friend – too often – in the days following the deaths of Treize's parents.

"You can ask, you know," Treize said, abruptly shattering the silence of the room.

"Ask what?" Zechs queried, startled. He hadn't physically jumped, but it had been close.

Treize shrugged heavily, turning his gaze back to the younger man's. "Why I haven't made more effort to speak to Leia." He stepped past Zechs to put the glass down again.

The cadet turned to follow his movement, frowning. "I wasn't thinking that," he protested, lying as best he could.

Treize snorted what might have been a bitter laugh. "Of course you were. It's written all over you." He put his hands on the edge of the table, gripping the wood and leaning forward. "It's a fair question," he admitted softly.

The frown deepened with worry. There was something defeated in Treize's stance, as though he'd had the fight taken clean out of him. The blond moved towards him again, reaching out and hesitating before he touched. "Is it?" Zechs wondered. "All right." He swallowed carefully, and then took a deep breath. "Why _haven't_ you called Leia?"

There was a pause, then, "I don't know," Treize answered unsteadily. He shook his head in frustration. "I don't know why. I just…haven't. I can't."

Zechs felt his jaw almost literally drop open as the frown was replaced by pure shock – a feeling that was rapidly starting to become familiar. "You _can't_?" he spluttered. "What do you mean, you can't?" He gestured sharply. "All you have to do is call the bridge, ask the Captain to connect you and say hello!".

"And then what?" Treize asked quietly. He pushed up from the table and turned to look at the younger man squarely, something plaintive in his gaze. "I say hello, and then… what? What do I say to her after that?"

The cadet stilled. "I don't know," he admitted, echoing his friend. "I don't really know what to say to you, never mind to her," he confessed, "but you have to speak to her, Treize. The longer you leave it, the harder it will be and if you leave it much longer…." He bit his lip again for a moment. "She has to be wondering by now, trying to work out why you haven't, and if she starts to blame herself, starts thinking you're angry with her, she'll be miserable."

Zechs stopped, hesitating. "You aren't, are you?" he asked cautiously, taking in the tension in his teacher. There was storm of feeling in those sapphire eyes now and the younger man wasn't sure anger wasn't a part of it. "You seem…," he started, and stopped when Treize glared at him.

"Angry with her?" the teacher repeated, his tone ringing with disbelief. "With Leia? It wasn't her fault! Why the hell would I be angry with her?" he demanded. He shook his head, the first tinge of a heated flush touching his pale skin. "If I'm angry, it's at myself for leaving her alone, for not being there at the time and not being able to go to her now!"

The cadet was grateful for the concealment of his glasses as his eyes widened. There was a tone to the officer's voice, a thread of emotion, which he recognised all too well. He was intimately familiar with guilt and what games it could play with a person's head. If he'd been worried that Leia would feel she'd failed Treize, then he now had proof that Treize felt he'd failed his wife.

The identification of one strand of the tangled web of feeling in the older man's eyes allowed Zechs – like finding a loose thread to unravel kitting – to begin to separate out all the rest. He saw the guilt and the anger Treize had admitted to, but also the shock and the lack of comprehension, the sense of loss and the pain. He didn't know why he was surprised to see grief, but he was – perhaps because he hadn't known Leia was pregnant before he'd been told she wasn't.

He considered that idea for a moment, then reached up and took his sunglasses off, letting Treize have the direct eye contact he seemed to be reaching for.

The blond felt more exposed without them, as he was beginning always to, but he owed the older man at least this much. Treize had been his mainstay of support and comfort whenever he needed it for most of ten years; he couldn't give less back the first time he was in a position to do so, no matter how stunning it was to see his oldest friend suddenly so vulnerable.

Without consciously deciding to do it, Zechs stepped into the other man and reached out to hold him, his hands wrapping around Treize's shoulders lightly enough that the redhead could break their grip just with a movement if he wanted to. A moment later, the officer returned the touch, shivering once.

Zechs had been ever so slightly more than shoulder height to Treize at Christmas and he'd grown since, but neither man had noticed how much until just then. They were eye-level to each other suddenly, and it was possibly that fact, more than anything else, that let Treize lean against his surrogate brother.

"I'm sorry," Zechs said softly, his voice barely a murmur in his friend's ear. "So sorry. Is there anything you need, anything I can do?"

Treize shook his head tiredly. "No. Thank you." He sighed deeply. "I wish I knew why I'm reacting so poorly to this," he said quietly.

Zechs raised an eyebrow, frowning. "Do you think you are?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. Even if Treize had felt nothing personally – and it was obvious that he did – the younger man would have expected him to be distressed on behalf of his wife.

Treize said nothing for a time, taking a few slow breaths before he straightened his posture and stepped back. Zechs let him go willingly, wary of pushing the older man away by forcing him to be too close.

"Yes, I think I am," the officer said eventually. He'd moved a pace or two away and his head lifted so that he could gaze out of the port again over Zechs's shoulder. "And I think both the workload Liliya has been carrying on this cruise and the bruise you'll have by morning are proof of it."

Zechs quirked an impish smile. "Don't flatter yourself," he teased, taking the opportunity to inject some lightness into things and provide a momentary respite. "You didn't hit me that hard."

Treize gave him a startled look, then laughed weakly and shook his head in fond exasperation. "We'll see," he allowed. He sighed softly and looked away again. "I can't understand, and that's not a feeling I like, especially about myself. Why do I feel as though I'm grieving?" he asked.

Since Zechs had been surprised to see grief in his friend, he wasn't sure he could answer that. "I don't know," he confessed. "Perhaps because you are," he replied, with deceptive simplicity.

"That's rather poor logic," Treize protested. "I feel as though I am, because I am? That's both obvious and not an explanation." He reached for his shot glass and the vodka bottle with automatic, long-practiced gestures. "Would you like a drink?" he offered politely.

Zechs shook his head. "Tempting, but no. I don't need it."

Treize tilted his head "And I do?" he asked. "Are you offering to spot for me?" he wondered a moment later. It was a pilot's term, one he hadn't heard since his last combat posting and he wasn't sure the younger man would understand it – the exact phrase used might well have changed, as such things did with each new cadet class. The concept, however, wouldn't have, and the officer knew his friend understood that well enough. Treize had extended a limited version of it to Zechs on the night of the Lepedev's Ball, by bargaining a blind eye turned to how drunk he and Otto got on his wine, as long as they stayed away from his spirits and any illegal chemicals they'd brought.

The idea, in its true form, was part of the backbone that separated the Specials from other military units. It was an offer made between wing-mates, members of the same unit and occasionally across squadrons between close friends, most often in the wake of traumatising combat action. It meant to stand as blind guardian whilst the other person did whatever it took for them to recover, no questions asked and no restrictions applied, surety for their safety and their honour. It required trust on both parts, and loyalty, and it wasn't ever taken lightly.

The cadet shrugged carefully. "If you want me to," he said quietly.

Treize looked at him levelly for a moment, then shook his head. "No," he returned. He reached out and touched the younger man's sleeve lightly with his fingertips. "I appreciate it, though."

Zechs nodded his acknowledgement and the subject was closed and forgotten. If the blond had just offered to stay with his friend whilst Treize drank himself into oblivion, guaranteeing that he would do nothing under the influence that would be harmful or humiliating and that he would find himself in bed the following morning, a basin and aspirin to hand, it wouldn't be spoken about. Nor would the fact that what had really been offered was a willing ear to listen to anything Treize might say with his defences down, a shoulder for any emotional storm that would have been utterly unacceptable any other way, and the promise of complete discretion when it was done.

There was silence in the room whilst the cadet waited for Treize to sip his drink, disturbed by the occasional distant shout and the sounds of the ship and sea as they fought with each other under the influence of the storm. Both men were adjusting their balance unconsciously, shifting with the decking beneath their feet as it pitched and rolled in the swell.

Zechs used the time to think to himself, and when the other man's glass was empty, he brought their topic back to the matter in hand. "I didn't think it was a logic problem," he admitted, voice low in deference to the mood that seemed to have gathered between them. "Does there need to be an explanation?" he asked.

"Yes," Treize answered immediately, his tone determined, but he didn't elaborate.

Zechs blinked, scowling. "Yes?" he repeated. "Why?"

"Because…" Treize started, stopped and shrugged helplessly. "Because there does," he insisted. He looked away for a moment, then back. "If I'm grieving, what am I grieving for?" he quizzed and Zechs's eyes widened again as he looked at his friend, completely taken aback.

"Your child," he replied, his tone that of someone stating the obvious.

There was another heartbeat's silence, this one fraught with tension, then, "What child?" Treize demanded, gesturing sharply with the hand not holding his glass. He abandoned the tumbler to the table once more to repeat his gesture with both hands. "What child? Leia was less than ten weeks into her pregnancy," he said harshly, making Zechs close his eyes for a moment as he did some quick mental arithmetic and cringed at the answers.

"She hadn't quickened," Treize continued. "There was barely a heartbeat and she was months away from viability! What she lost was a collection of cells and a lot of blood. That's not a child!"

The look the younger man gave the older was unbelievably gentle. "But it was," he said softly, holding Treize's eyes. "To you."

If Zechs had expected some dramatic reaction to his announcement, he was disappointed. The only outward sign of anything Treize might be feeling was the way he chose that moment to rest his left hand on the edge of the table, and even that might have been the vodka finally going to his head.

"Since when do you," Treize began tightly, "sound like Liliya Valadin? I have one amateur psychologist in my life who thinks they know everything that's happening in my head. I don't need two."

Zechs had the grace to blush a little but he didn't look away as he would have a few months before. "I'm not playing amateur psychologist," he replied. "And I don't sound like Vlad the Impaler. I sound like me," he insisted. He took a step closer to the older man, putting one hand out as though to soothe. "I'm not pretending to know what's going on in your head and I'm not pretending I know exactly how you feel either," he promised quietly, "but I'm a world-class expert when it comes to grief. Even you have to admit that."

"Your point?" Treize asked, shortly. His eyes were flashing with something Zechs deliberately didn't look at too closely.

Zechs took a deep breath before he spoke again, and his voice was heavy with the lessons he'd been taught by the things he'd lived through, "My point," he said delicately, "is that it's as possible to grieve for what wasn't and what won't be, as for what was." The cadet dropped his gaze the moment he was done speaking, knowing he was pushing again and well over the line of acceptable behaviour.

In doing so, he missed moment's dull surprise that Treize showed before he really heard what was being said to him. It was the least dramatic, least emotional way the older man had ever heard Zechs express his feelings on the loss of his family and country, and all the more affecting for it.

"Just something to think about," Zechs suggested off-handedly when there was no response but a wordless sound of acknowledgement. Without waiting for any further reply or dismissal the other might have made, Zechs turned on his heel and headed for the door. "Call Leia," he instructed over his shoulder. "Talk to her. I'll come back later, unless you tell me not to."

He palmed the door control, waited for it to hiss open, and smiled sadly when he heard the comm. console beeping its activation as the door shut behind him.

Once in the corridor, Zechs paused long enough to steady himself, deliberately blocking out contemplation of his own feelings about Leia and the child she might have had before walking determinedly towards the cadet bunks. It didn't occur to him to question what had just happened as anything other than it had appeared on the surface and Zechs certainly didn't realise that the process that had started in Treize's rooms on the night of the Lepedev Ball had completed itself.

The official titles would remain for another few months, and neither man would know it for longer, but Treize and Zechs were no longer teacher and student. In Zechs's offering of comfort, support and understanding to his friend, he had bridged one half of that gap, and Treize, in learning some version of what Zechs had to live with, had crossed the other. For a few minutes, their roles had been reversed and they couldn't ever undo that change completely. It would be some time before they worked out what they now were to each other, but it was something far closer to equals.

What did occur to Zechs as he walked was that he needed to start praying that nothing ever happened to Marie or to any future siblings she might have. If Treize was that badly rattled by his wife miscarrying a pregnancy he scarcely knew existed, the blond couldn't begin to guess what the death of a living child would do to his friend.

It would be a little more than two years before he would find out.


End file.
